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YALE  STUDIES   IN   ENGLISH 


ALBERT   S.   COOK,   Editor 


XXV 


BARTHOLOMEW  FAIR 


BY 

BEN  JONSON 

EDITED  WITH  INTRODUCTION,  NOTES,  AND  GLOSSARY 

BY 

CARROLL  STORRS  ALDEN,  Ph.D. 

Instructor  in  English  and  Law  in  the  United  States  Naval  Academy 


sNUi 


NEW   YORK 

HENRY    HOLT   AND   COMPANY 

1904 


YALE   STUDIES   IN   ENGLISH 
ALBERT   S.   COOK,    Editor 

XXV 

BARTHOLOMEW  FAIR 

BY 

BEN  JONSON 

EDITED  WITH  INTRODUCTION,  NOTES,  AND  GLOSSARY 

BY 

CARROLL  STORRS  ALDEN,   Ph.D. 

Instructor  in  English  and  Law  in  the  United  States  Naval  Academy 


NEW    YORK 

HENRY   HOLT   AND   COMPANY 
1904 


Copyright  1904 

by 

Carroll  Storrs  Alden 


PREFACE 

Bartholomew  Fair  has  a  twofold  interest.  It  furnishes 
a  picture,  inimitable  in  its  varied  realism,  of  one  of  the 
most  characteristic  scenes  of  Elizabethan  London.  It  also 
reflects  not  a  little  the  personality  of  Jonson  as  he  moved, 
a  man  among  men,  and  enjoyed  to  the  full  the  rough, 
hearty  life  of  the  middle  and  lower  classes  of  the  metropolis. 
Consequently,  though  the  play  is  not  artistic  in  the  highest 
sense,  and  is  avowedly  light  in  character,  it  holds  a  place 
of  importance  in  Jonson's  work  and  in  the  Elizabethan 
drama. 

Of  the  play  Wrights  *of  his  time,  Jonson  especially  made 
London  his  province  *  and  of  all  his  plays  Bartholomew 
Fair  is  the  most  local  in  atmosphere.  This  quality,  though 
constituting  the  chief  excellence  of  the  comedy,  is  to-day 
the  greatest  hindrance  to  an  intelligent  appreciation  of  it. 
Accordingly,  in  the  Introduction  and  the  Notes  I  have  dwelt 
particularly  on  what  concerned  the  life  and  thought  of  the 
people.  In  such  a  study  contemporary  literature,  as  well  as 
later  scholarship,  is  of  course  invaluable,  and  much  of  the 
Introduction  and  Notes  will  be  found  to  be  but  a  restate- 
ment, and  a  bringing  together,  of  what  is  not  new,  nor 
altogether  unfamiliar.  My  aim  has  been  to  present  data 
of  unquestionable  authority,  and  to  make  easy  of  access 


ERAL 


C^r-rv^  -^ 


Copyright  1904 

by 

Carroll  Storrs  Alden 


l9o<f 


PREFACE 

Bartholomew  Fair  has  a  twofold  interest.  It  furnishes 
a  picture,  inimitable  in  its  varied  realism,  of  one  of  the 
most  characteristic  scenes  of  Elizabethan  London.  It  also 
reflects  not  a  little  the  personality  of  Jonson  as  he  moved, 
a  man  among  men,  and  enjoyed  to  the  full  the  rough, 
hearty  life  of  the  middle  and  lower  classes  of  the  metropolis. 
Consequently,  though  the  play  is  not  artistic  in  the  highest 
sense,  and  is  avowedly  light  in  character,  it  holds  a  place 
of  importance  in  Jonson's  work  and  in  the  Elizabethan 
drama. 

Of  the  playwrights  *of  his  time,  Jonson  especially  made 
London  his  province  •  and  of  all  his  plays  Bartholomew 
Fair  is  the  most  local  in  atmosphere.  This  quality,  though 
constituting  the  chief  excellence  of  the  comedy,  is  to-day 
the  greatest  hindrance  to  an  intelligent  appreciation  of  it. 
Accordingly,  in  the  Introduction  and  the  Notes  I  have  dwelt 
particularly  on  what  concerned  the  life  and  thought  of  the 
people.  In  such  a  study  contemporary  literature,  as  well  as 
later  scholarship,  is  of  course  invaluable,  and  much  of  the 
Introduction  and  Notes  will  be  found  to  be  but  a  restate- 
ment, and  a  bringing  together,  of  what  is  not  new,  nor 
altogether  unfamiliar.  My  aim  has  been  to  present  data 
of  unquestionable  authority,  and  to  make  easy  of  access 


iv  Preface 

materials  which  will  assist  the  scholar  to  enter  into  the 
spirit  of  London  and  of  the  Smithfield  Fair  at  the  time 
of  our  play. 

A  portion  of  the  expense  of  printing  this  thesis  has  been 
borne  by  the  Modern  Language  Club  of  Yale  University 
from  funds  placed  at  its  disposal  by  the  generosity  of  Mr. 
George  E.  Dimock,  of  Elizabeth,  New  Jersey,  a  graduate 
of  Yale  in  the  Qass  of  1874. 


CONTENTS 


I. 

Introduction          .... 

.    vii 

I.  Editions  of  the  Text 

.    vii 

2.  The  Annual  Bartholomew  Fair  . 

X 

3.  Jonson's    Bartholomew    Fair:    its 

General 

Features        .... 

.    xii 

4.  Jonson's  Satire  of  the  Puritans  . 

.      XX 

II. 

Text 

I 

III. 

Notes 

.   135 

IV. 

Glossary        .         .         .         . 

.  222 

V. 

Bibliography         .... 

.  229 

VI. 

Index 

.  233 

JO 

AllSHBAINO 

3H±  iO 


INTRODUCTION 

I.     Editions  of  the  Text. 

The  only  edition  of  Bartholomew  Fair  of  real  importance 
is  that  of  the  second  volume  of  the  first  folio  of  Jonson's 
Works,  the  title-pages  in  which  are  dated  1631,  1640,  or 
1641.  This  volume  has  caused  not  a  little  confusion  to 
scholars,  because  it  is  made  up  of  several  parts  originally 
designed  for  separate  sale,  and  variously  arranged  in  dif- 
ferent copies.  Thus  Miss  Bates  in  her  English  Drama^ 
gives  the  date  of  the  second  volume  of  the  first  folio  as  1631, 
reprinted  in  1640,  and  again  in  1641 ;  and  Ward  in  his 
History  of  the  English  Drama^  gives  the  same.  But 
Brinsley  Nicholson,^  after  a  careful  collation,  comes  to  the 
conclusion  that  although  title-pages  in  different  copies  vary, 
and  certain  minor  dissimilarities  occur,  these  three  volumes 
belong  to  the  same  edition.     Hazlitt*  re-affirms  this. 

As  the  copy  of  the  Yale  Library  on  which  the  present 
work  is  based  differs  in  several  particulars  from  the  copies 
collated  by  Nicholson  and  Hazlitt,  it  has  seemed  worth 
while  to  give  a  somewhat  detailed  collation. 

There  is  no  general  title-page,  although  in  some  copies 
that  of  the  first  volume  of  the  1640  folio  is  inserted.** 

Folio.     Signatures  in  fours. 

I.  Bartholomew  Fair  has  a  title-page  as  follows : 

BARTHOLMEW  |  FAYRE:  |  A  COMEDIE,  | 
ACTED  IN  THE  |  YEARE,  1614.  |  By  the  Lady 
ELIZABETHS    \    SERVANTS.    |     And   then   dedicated 

^2.  296. 

'  Notes  and  Queries,  4th  Series,  5.  573. 

*  Bibliographical  Collections  and  Notes  (1882),  320. 

"Cf.  Hazlitt. 


viii  Introduction 

to  King  lAMES,  of  1  most  Blessed  Memorie;  \  By  the 
Author,  BENIAMIN  lOHNSON.  | 

Si  foret  in  terris,  rideret  Democritus  :  nam 
Spectaret  populum  ludis  attentius  ipsis, 
Vt  sibi  prcehentem,  mimo  spectacula  plura. 
Script  ores  autem  narrare  putaret  assello 
Fahellam  surdo.        Hor.  lib.  2.  Epist.  I. 

LONDON,  I  Printed  by  /.  B.  for  ROBERT  ALLOT,  and 
are  |  to  be  sold  at  the  signe  of  the  Beare,  in  Pauls  \  Church- 
yard.    1 63 1.  I 

Following  the  quotation  from  Horace  there  is  a  woodcut 
with  device  of  a  wolf's  head,  erased,  etc.  Verso  of  t.  p. 
is  blank.  This  is  the  first  of  five  leaves  preceding  B,  the 
second  marked  A3,  the  others  without  signature  or  pagina- 
tion. The  Prologue  to  the  Kings  Majesty,  A3 :  verso.  The 
Persons  of  the  Play.  The  Induction  occupies  the  next  six 
pages.     The  play  begins  B,  p.  i,  and  ends  M,  p.  88. 

Following  Bartholomew  Fair  are : 

2.  The  Staple  of  News,  Aa,  [p.  i],  changed  after  Cc2 
to  a  single  letter, — I,  [p.  y6\  ;  I  has  six  leaves. 

3.  The  Devil  is  an  Ass,  [N,  p.  91] — ^Y,  p.  170.  The 
pagination  and  signatures  indicate  that  this  should  have 
followed  immediately  after  Bartholomew  Fair.  Pp.  89,  90, 
between  the  plays,  are  omitted.  These  three  plays  have 
separate  t.  pp.,  and  were  printed  by  I.  B.  for  Robert  Allot, 
163 1.  Hazlitt  says  they  are  usually  found  in  a  volume 
together,  and  that  they  were  doubtless  intended  by  Jonson 
to  supplement  the  folio  of  161 6. 

4.  Christmas,  his  Masque,  etc.,  no  t.  p.,  Underwoods,  t.  p. 
London,  Printed  MDCXL,  and  Mortimer,  t.  p.  Printed 
MDCXL:  B,  p.  i — Qq,  p.  292.  R,  Y,  and  Pp  have  each 
but  two  leaves.  There  are  also  a  few  irregularities  in  the 
pagination  of  this  and  some  of  the  following  sections  of 
the  folio. 

5.  Horace,  the  English  Grammar,  t.  pp.  Printed  MDCXL, 
and  Timber,  t.  p.  London,  Printed  MDCXLI:  [A],  p.  i— R, 
p.  132.     L  has  but  two  leaves. 


Introduction  ix 

6.  The  Magnetic  Lady,  A  Tale  of  a  Tub,  t.  pp.  London, 
Printed  MCDXL,  and  The  Sad  Shepherd,  t.  p.  London, 
Printed  MDCXLI :  [A,  p.  i]— V,  p.  155.  Q  has  but  two 
leaves.  Pp.  70-79  are  repeated,  while  pp.  123-132  are 
omitted  in  the  pagination. 

Other  editions  of  lesser  importance  are:  the  folio  of 
1692;^  a  booksellers'  edition,  1716;  Whalley's,  1756;  Gif- 
ford's,  1816;  Cunningham's  Gifford's,  1875.  Whalley's 
edition  was  reprinted  together  with  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's 
plays  in  181 1,  and  Gifford's  text  has  appeared  again  in  the 
Mermaid  Series.  The  latter  call  for  no  consideration,  and 
the  others  can  be  dismissed  with  a  few  words.  The  folio  of 
1692  is  a  not  over-careful  reprint  of  the  163 1  text,  with 
changes  in  spelling,  capitalization,  etc.  The  17 16  edition 
reproduces  the  1692  folio  with  certain  inaccuracies  of  its 
own.  In  Whalley's  edition,  1756,  we  have  the  first  pro- 
fessedly critical  text.  But  the  result  is  disappointing.  As 
Gifford  has  noted,^  Whalley  based  his  work  on  the  book- 
sellers' edition  of  1716,  and  thus  several  errors  of  the  latter 
were  again  presented  to  the  public.  With  much  more 
vigor  and  independence  Gifford  approached  the  same  task. 
But  he  takes  some  undue  liberties,  makes  certain  changes 
that  can  be  ascribed  only  to  carelessness,  and  at  times  is  in 
error  because  of  consulting  Whalley  instead  of  the  early 
text. 

Much  of  this  will  be  evident  on  reference  to  the  variants 
of  the  text  in  this  volume.  It  should  be  added,  however, 
that  the  aim  has  been  to  include  only  the  most  important, 
and  that  although  a  few  unmistakable  errors,  characteristic 
of  the  different  editions,  are  given,  those  due  to  carelessness 
are  commonly  omitted. 

Bartholomew  Fair  was  produced  in  1614.  That  it  should 
not  have  been  included  in  the  folio  of  161 6,  has  caused 
occasional  comment,  yet  is  not  strange,  as  popular  plays 

*  For  collation  and  detailed  criticism  of  these  editions,  see  Hatha- 
way, Alchemist,  4-12. 
2  Cun.  G.  ed.  i.  clxxxiii. 


X  ,  Introduction 

were  often  withheld  many  years  from  the  press.  It  was 
first  published  in  the  1631-41  folio,  and,  like  the  other  parts 
of  that  volume,  does  not  exhibit  the  nice  workmanship  of 
the  earlier  folio.  It  is  improbable  that  Jonson  revised  it; 
but  that  it  was  brought  out  surreptitiously,  as  Gifford  con- 
jectured, is  proved  untrue  by  Jonson's  letter  regarding  the 
printing  of  the  play.^ 

In  the  text  which  I  submit  as  the  basis  of  my  study,  I 
have  painstakingly  followed  in  spelling,  capitalization,  and 
punctuation,  the  folio  of  1631-41.  This  was  suggested  by 
the  example  of  Dr.  Horace  H.  Furness  in  the  Variorum 
Shakespeare,  who,  after  carefully  constructing  a  text  for 
each  of  his  earlier  volumes,  at  length  decided  to  reproduce 
the  text  of  the  first  Shakespeare  folio.  The  reasons  which 
he  adduced  in  support  of  his  later  method^  3.pply  with  equal 
force  to  Bartholomew  Fair.  And  it  is  hoped  that  by  repro- 
ducing the  original  text  of  this  play,  even  with  all  the 
'barbarities^  as  Gifford  termed  them,  the  student  may  be 
aided  in  forming  a  more  independent  judgment,  as  well  as 
in  coming  nearer  to  Jorrson. 


2.     The  Annual  Bartholomew  Fair. 

Jonson's  play  is  a  realistic  portrayal  of  the  Fair  held  at 
Smithfi^ld,  London;  and  one  of  the  greatest  helps  to  a 
knowledge  of  either  the  Fair  or  the  play,  is  an  acquaintance 
with  the  other.  For  completeness,  then,  the  present  work 
should  include  a  history  of  the  Fair  from  its  founding  in  the 
twelfth  century  to  its  decay  and  final  dissolution,  seven 
hundred  and  thirty  years  later.  But  such  a  history  has 
been  written  by  Henry  Morley,  who  had  the  great  advantage 
of  immediate  access  to  manuscripts,  tracts,  bills,  etc.,  some 
of  which  were  published  expressly  for  the  Fair,  and  of 
course  are  invaluable  for  their  record  of  its  varied  and 

^  See  Note  on  /.  B.  of  the  Title-page. 

'See  Preface  to  Othello  (Var.  Ed.),  pp.  V,  VL 


Introduction  xi 

eventful  life.  So  that,  alluring  though  the  Fair  is,  with  its 
traditions  of  northern  clothiers,  horse-traders,  roast  pig,  and 
rough  and  hearty  amusements  (many  of  which  are  com- 
mented on  in  the  Notes),  it  seems  sufficient  at  this  point 
merely  to  name  the  work  which  will  be  found  a  rich  store- 
house of  information,  Morley's  Memoirs  of  Bartholomew 
Fair. 

Another  useful  book,  though  confessedly  based  on  the 
Memoirs  in  the  chapters  relating  to  the  London  Fair,  is 
Walford's  Fairs,  Past  and  Present,  Magazine  articles  have 
also  appeared  from  time  to  time,  but  they  are  of  no  value. 

As  a  suggestion  of  the  long  and  varied  history  of  Bar- 
tholomew Fair,  I  append  the  following  dates : 

1 102  Founding  of  the  Priory  of  Bartholomew. 

1 120  Bartholomew  Fair  established  by  Rayer. 

1 133  First  Charter,  granted  by  Henry  I. 
1133 


Many  miracles. 
1143  ) 

1^1  Charter  granted  by  Henry  H. 

1305    William  Wallace  executed  in  the  Fair. 
1334    A  new  Charter,  by  Edward  HI. 
14004-  Men  and  women  sold  at  the  Fair, 
Growing  importance  as  a  cloth  fair. 

\  Miracle  plays. 
1500  J 

1539    Severed  from  the  Church. 

1546    Priory  rights  secured  by  Lord  Rich. 

1593     Suspended  because  of  the  plague. 

1596    Composition   of  tolls,   betwen   Lord   Rich   and   the   City   of 

London. 

1598    Described  by  a  German  tutor,  Paul  Hentzner. 

1603     Suspended  because  of  the  plague. 

1614    Smithfield  paved. 

The  third  Lord  Rich,  Lord  of  the  Fair. 

Depicted  by  Ben  Jonson  at  the  Hope  Theatre. 
1625     Suspended  because  of  the  plague. 
1630    Suspended  because  of  the  plague. 

1647+  Many  political  tracts  issued  at  it.  g 

1661     Becomes  a  fourteen-day  fair. 


xii  Introduction 


Tfi68  i  Visited  by  Samuel  Pepys. 


1664    Visited  by  John  Locke. 

^j^o-  f  Suspended  because  of  the  plague. 

1678    First  question  of  suppression  raised  by  civic  authorities. 

1685    The  tolls  leased  by  the  City  to  a  sword-bearer  for  iioo  a  year. 

Its  decay  as  a  place  of  trade. 
1694    Reduced  to  a  three-day  fair  as  formerly. 
1697    Vicious  plays  suppressed  by  the  Lord  Mayor. 

Puppet-shows  still  flourish. 

^  r  Henry  Fielding  has  a  theatrical  booth  at  which  he  acts. 

1750+  Roast  pig  loses  its  popularity ;  beef  sausage  comes  into  vogue. 

1762    More  restrictions  upon  its  liberties. 

1769    Plays,  puppet-shows,  and  gambling  suppressed. 

1792     Performances  by  political  puppets. 

1798    Its  abolition  again  discussed  by  the  Corporation  of  London. 

1827    The  Lord  of  the  Fair's  rights  bought  by  the  Corporation  of 

London. 
1839    Measures  for  suppression. 
1855     Its  last  year. 


3.     Jonson's  Bartholomew  Fair.-  its  General 
Features. 

While  all  of  Jonson^s  early  comedies  had  been  at  least 
moderately  successful,  and  several  much  more  than  that, 
his  later  and  more  ambitious  effort,  Catiline,  embodying  long 
cherished  and  carefully  elaborated  theories,  was  an  unmis- 
takable failure.  Jonson  was  keenly  disappointed  at  its 
reception.  Being  much  too  positive  and  self-confident  to 
distrust  his  art,  he  quickly  changed  his  estimate  of  the  public. 
With  a  feeling  not  untouched  with  cynicism,  he  suddenly 
becomes  aware  of  the  'jig-given  times'  in  which  he  is  living, 
where  is  'so  thick  and  dark  an  ignorance,  as  now  almost 
covers  the  age.' 

in  Catiline  he  had  worked  on  the  assumption  that  like 
himself  the  public  was  deeply  interested  in  classical  archae- 


Introduction  xiii 

ology;  he  had  conceived  the  masses  to  be  hearers  and 
readers  'extraordinary',  whereas  they  proved  themselves, 
beyond  a  question,  very  'ordinary'.  It  is  thus  not  strange 
that,  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  the  futiHty  of  his  labor,  he 
produced  nothing  for  the  next  two  years.  Then  followed 
Bartholomew  Fair,  'made  to  delight  all  and  offend  none.' 
It  was  thus  a  compromise,  in  which,  recognizing  that  the 
Elizabethans  were  not  scholars  but  fun-loving  boys,  he  laid 
aside,  as  it  were,  the  schoolman's  gown,  and  presented  'a 
new  sufficient  play,  .  .  .  merry,  and  as  full  of  noise  as 
sport.'  That  he  might  not  again  write  above  the  heads  of 
his  audience,  he  constructed  this  drama,  he  tells  them  with 
playful  sarcasm  in  the  Induction,  according  to  'the  scale 
of  the  grounded  judgments',  just  to  their  'meridian'  in  wit. 
Bartholomew  Fair  was  as  popular  as  Catiline  had  been 
unpopular.  And  though  we  should  undoubtedly  incur  the 
scorn  of  the  author  were  he  to  hear  three  centuries  later  this 
admission  of  human  weakness,  our  judgment  agrees  with 
that  of  the  people.  For  lightly  as  Jonson  regarded  his  task, 
Bartholomew  Fair  is  a  play  of  surpassing  power.  Ward  is 
not  blinded  by  enthusiasm  when  he  characterizes  it  as  'of  its 
kind  .  .  .  without  a  rival  in  our  dramatic  literature.'^ 
On  the  other  hand,  it  does  not  aid  in  a  true  appreciation  of 
this  play  to  disregard  its  structural  defects  or  to  palliate  its 
frequent  coarseness.  Leigh  Hunt  condemned  it  as  'full 
of  the  absolutest,  and  loathsomest,  trash',^  a  criticism  which 
shows  how  strongly  he  was  offended  rather  than  how  pene- 
trating was  his  insight.  Much  more  discerning  is  Swin- 
burne's judgment:  'It  must  be  confessed  that  some  of  the 
meat  is  too  high  and  some  of  the  sauces  are  too  rank  for  any 
but  a  very  strong  digestion.  But  those  who  turn  away  from 
the  table  in  sheer  disgust  at  the  coarseness  of  the  fare  will 
lose  the  enjoyment  of  some  of  the  richest  and  strongest! 
humor,  some  of  the  most  brilliant  and  varied  realism,  that  ' 
ever  claimed  the  attention  or  excited  the  admiration  of  the 
study  or  the  stage.'^ 

^Eng.  Dram.  Lit.  2.  371. 

*  Hunt,  Men,  Women,  and  Books,  2.  13. 

'  Swinburne,  Study  of  Ben  Jonson,  60. 


^ 


xiv  Introduction 

Bartholomew  Fair  is  the  most  farcical  of  Jonson's  plays. 
There  is,  to  be  sure,  an  element  of  seriousness  in  the  keen 
satire  of  the  Puritan,  which  prevents  it  from  being  entirely 
a  farce,  but  for  the  most  part  the  play  is  given  over  to 
natural,  rollicking  fun.  This  varies  all  the  way  from  the 
rough  horse-play  of  Waspe's  beating  the  Justice  and  thf 
tragical  destruction  of  Mrs.  Overdo's  French  hood,  to  th( 
highly  respectable  wooing  of  Grace  Wellborn.  The  scene? 
are  typical  of  London  life,  compressed  and  heightened  as 
it  naturally  would  be  in  the  annual  merry-making  of  Bar 
tholomew  Fair.  The  satire  is  less  delicate,  and  tt 
humorous  situations  less  elaborate,  than  in  Epicoene;  bu. 
the  fun  is  even  more  spontaneous  and  varied. 

The  plot  is  noticeably  slight.  The  interest  is  chieflv 
concerned  with  the  picture  of  the  old  Fair,  into  whic:;- 
all  the  curious  incidents  that  might  happen  among  the 
hearty,  pleasure-loving  Londoners  on  Bartholomew  Day  arr 
crowded.  There  is  great  diversity  in  the  picture;  yet  sinc^ 
each  scene  is  so  closely  connected  with  the  Fair,  the  lattc^r 
g^ves  it  a  certain  unity. 

Notwithstanding  the  looseness  of  structure,  which  mav 
be  somewhat  easily  pardoned  in  so  Hght  a  piece,  there  ai  e 
to  be  noted  evidences  of  careful  workmanship.  The  unities 
of  time  and  place  are  strictly  observed.  The  action  i 
included  in  one  short  day,  beginning  with  the  middle  of  tht 
morning  and  ending  in  time  for  an  invitation  to  supper. 
Aside  from  Act  i,  which  is  introductory,  the  scene  is  laid 
entirely  in  the  outer  portion  of  the  Fair,  where  were  the 
eating-booths,  the  puppet-shows,  and  the  'monsters' ;  Ac 
I  is  placed  at  Littlewit's  home,  within  a  few  minutes'  wal]-: 
of  the  Fair. 

•  There  are,  further,  certain  threads  of  interest  to  be  fol 
lowed  throughout  the  play.     At  the  very  beginning  thc 
attention  is  directed  to  the»project  devised  by  Winwife  ar'd 
Quarlous  of  making  a  wealthy  match,  in  pursuit  of  which 
they  are  friendly  rivals  for  the  hand  of  Dame  Purecraft 
well  as  that  of  Grace  Wellborn.     A  second  interest  is  in  t 


Introduction  xv 

visit  to  the  Fair  of  Cokes  and  his  party  (who  might  be  desig- 
nated as  the  party  of  fools),  and  of  Busy  and  his  party  (the 
party  of  hypocritical  Puritans).  A  third  interest  centers  in 
the  disguised  Justice  Overdo  seeking  to  discover  the  'enor- 
mities' of  the  Fair ;  he  is  comic  because  so  serious,  and  thus  ^ 
rightly  belongs  to  both  parties. 

The  action  is  largely  episodic,  and  the  conclusion  is  not 
inevitable.  Yet  there  is  a  distinct  climax  at  the  end  of 
Act  5,  where,  besides  the  successful  tricks  employed  by 
Quarlous  and  Winwife  for  making  wealthy  matches,  Busy 
undertakes  an  argument  with  the  puppets  only  to  be  miser- 
ably defeated,  and  Overdo,  after  a  magnificent  exordium,  in 
which  he  calls  upon  all  London  to  witness  the  discoveries 
about  to  be  made  in  his  zealous  reforms,  comes  to  a  sudden 
and  very  embarrassing  conclusion  on  finding  his  own  wife 
among  the  chief  offenders. 

The  puppet-play  of  Act  5  is  a  seeming  digression,  and 
delays  the  action.  But  the  idea  of  its  introduction  and  the 
use  finally  made  of  it  in  the  denouement,  if  we  can  overlook 
its  extreme  vulgarity,  are  undeniably  clever ;  no  scene  could 
be  more  characteristic  of  the  Fair. 

Notwithstanding  the  great  and  long  continued  popularity 
of  the  puppet-drama^  in  England,  extremely  little  of  it  has 
been  preserved  in  literature.  So  far  as  I  know,  not  one 
entire  play  given  during  Jonson's  time  is  extant.  The 
reason  is  evident.  As  it  was  adapted  especially  for  the 
amusement  of  the  lower  classes,  the  attention  was  given,  not 
to  the  literary  form,  but  to  the  common  tricks  calculated  to 
catch  the  popular  ear.     Though  the  outline  of  the  plot  and 

^  In  England  the  puppet-plays,  or  'motions,'  as  they  were  often 
called,  had  their  origin  in  the  service  of  religion,  and  are  as  old  as 
the  drama.  They  were  early  used  to  illustrate  stories  from  the  Bible 
and  from  the  lives  of  the  saints;  later  many  of  the  morality-plays 
were  thus  produced.  At  the  time  of  Jonson  and  for  a  century 
later,  they  had  not  lost  entirely  the  influence  of  this  religious  asso- 
ciation. In  the  repertoire  of  Lanthorne  Leatherhead  (cf.  Text,  106. 
7  ff.),  together  with  the  secular  City  of  Norwich  and  Gunpowder 
Plot,  are  mentioned  Jerusalem,  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  and  Niniveh 


xvi  Introduction 

somewhat  more  at  times  may  have  been  written,  the  'inter- 
preter' suited  his  words  to  the  action,  and  freely  followed 
the  promptings  of  his  wit. 

In  the  Modern  History  of  Hero  and  Leander,  the  play 
which  our  friends  in  Bartholomew  Fair  attended,  the  plot 
first  of  all  deserves  attention.  It  begins  with  the  amours  of 
Hero  and  Leander,  with  whom  is  introduced  a  representa- 
tive of  the  rough  and  scurrilous  Thames  watermen.  Damon 
and  Pythias  are  next  presented,  but  alas  for  the  ancient  tra- 
dition of  their  noble  friendship!  They  chance  both  to  be 
smitten  with  the  fair  Hero,  and  in  most  ignoble  and 
unfriendly  language  blackguard  each  other ;  but  as  the 
puppet-master  in  his  own  person  addresses  them  in  an 
uncomplimentary  manner,  they  at  once  forget  their  dif- 
ferences, and  turning  upon  the  intruder,  beat  him 
violently  according  to  the  puppet-fashion.  Hero,  in  the 
meantime,  proves  that  she  is  indeed  but  a  creature  of  earth, 
and,  overcome  by  wine,  is  as  amorous  as  Leander.  Damon 
and  Pythias  come  upon  them  kissing ;  there  ensues  a  general 
bandying  of  coarse  and  abusive  epithets,  and  shortly  a  brawl 
in  which  Hero  is  shamefully  kicked.  The  violence  of  the 
melee  raises  the  ghost  of  Dionysius,  who  comes  sadly  to 
reprove  Damon  and  Pythias.  At  his  words  the  fight  stops. 
What  would  have  happened  next,  or  how  the  play  would 
have  ended  is  beyond  all  telling — Busy  rushes  in  at  this 
moment  and  demands  attention. 

As  may  be  seen  from  this  outline,  the  action  of  the  puppet- 
play  is  almost  sufficiently  bizarre  and  disjointed  to  meet  the 

with  Jonas  and  the  Whale.  The  last  seems  to  have  been  the  most 
popular  puppet-play  of  its  time,  for  it  is  also  referred  to  twice  by 
Jonson  in  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humor  (it  is  from  this  that  I  quote 
the  full  title)  and,  according  to  Collier  {Punch  and  Judy,  23),  by 
twenty  other  authors.  Among  other  plays  mentioned  in  contempo- 
rary literature,  whose  names  at  least  convey  a  suggestion  of  their 
character,  are  the  Prodigal  Son  {Winter's  Tale,  4.  3.  103)  ;  London, 
and  Rome  {Ev.  Man  Out,  'Stage,'  preceding  A.  i)  ;  Patient  Grizill, 
and  Whittington  (Pepys'  Diary,  Aug.  30,  1667;  Sept.  21,  1668).  For 
the  history  of  puppet-plays  in  England,  cf.  Encyc.  Britan.;  Punch 
^and  Judy;   Magnin,  Histoire  des  Marionnettes. 


Introduction  xvii 

requirements  of  a  modern  comic  opera.  Though  the  bur- 
lesque use  made  of  it  renders  absurd  an  analysis  that  is 
entirely  serious,  yet  we  may  distinguish  certain  features  of 
the  typical  puppet-play.  The  lack  of  coherence  in  the 
action,  intentionally  exaggerated  in  the  present  example,  is 
characteristic.  And  should  we  expect  anything  else  in  a 
work  so  largely  extempore?  The  various  parts  of  Hero 
and  Leander  are  not  more  strangely  wrought  together  than 
is  the  curious  medley  of  scenes  suggested  in  the  bill  of 
a  puppet-show  produced  a  century  later  by  a  motion-master 
of  celebrity:  'At  Crawley's  Booth,  over  against  the  Crown 
Tavern  in  Smithfield,  during  the  time  of  Bartholomew  Fair, 
will  be  presented  a  little  opera,  called  the  Old  Creation  of 
the  World,  yet  newly  revived ;  with  the  addition  of  Noah's 
Flood  ;  also  several  fountains  playing  water  during  the  time 
of  the  play. —  The  last  scene  does  present  Noah  and  his 
family  coming  out  of  the  Ark,  with  all  the  beasts  two  and 
two,  and  all  the  fowls  of  the  air  seen  in  a  prospect  sitting 
upon  trees ;  likewise  over  the  ark  is  seen  the  Sun  rising 
in  a  most  glorious  manner :  moreover,  a  multitude  of  Angels 
will  be  seen  in  a  double  rank,  which  presents  a  double  pros- 
pect, one  for  the  sun,  the  other  for  a  palace,  where  will  be 
seen  six  Angels  ringing  of  bells. —  Likewise  Machines 
descend  from  above,  double  and  treble,  with  Dives  rising  out 
of  Hell,  and  Lazarus  seen  in  Abraham's  bosom,  besides 
several  figures  dancing  jiggs,  sarabands,  and  country 
dances,  to  the  admiration  of  the  spectators ;  with  the  merry 
conceits  of  squire  Punch  and  sir  John  Spendall.'^ 

Another  very  instructive  parallel  is  furnished  by  a  com- 
parison of  the  Punch  and  Judy  show,  which  later  was  to 
have  such  vogue  in  England.^     The  plot  has  more  unity, 

^  Cited  by  Strutt,  Sports  and  Pastimes,  i66. 

'  Cf.  Punch  and  Judy,  London,  1873 ;  the  dialogue  by  Collier,  and 
the  illustrations  by  Cruikshank,  were  based  chiefly  on  the  production 
of  an  Italian  puppef-master,  Piccini,  in  his  old  age  settled  near  Drury 
Lane,  London,  who  in  the  pursuit  of  his  profession  for  forty  or  fifty 
years  had  travelled  over  England.  Also  cf.  Don  Quixote,  part  2, 
chap.  26;  here  is  described  most  vividly  the  redoubtable  knight's 
seeing  the  puppet-play  of  Gayferos  and  Melissandro ;  this  is  almost 
exactly  contemporary  with  our  play. 


xviii  Introduction 

but  also  is  episodic.  There  is  a  like  amorous  feeling  which 
underlies  much  of  the  action.  There  is  a  similar  tendency 
towards  coarseness  in  speech  and  action.  There  is  even 
more  rough  horse-play  and  beating.^ 

Hero  and  Leander,  besides  pleasing  an  audience  which 
had  such  a  fondness  for  puppet-plays,  portrays  a  most  char- 
acteristic feature  of  the  Fair.  It  presents  significant  experi- 
\  ences  of  the  party  of  fools  and  the  party  of  hypocrites;  it 
is  especially  serviceable  for  the  confutation  and  humiliation 
of  Busy,  who  represents  the  Puritan  prejudice  against  the 
stage.  In  the  end  it  thus  proves  to  be  closely  connected 
with  the  main  interests  of  the  action,  and,  with  the  qualifi- 
cation of  coarseness  already  suggested,  is  very  effective. 

The  unusually  large  number  of  characters  in  Bartholomew 
Fair  has  been  often  commented  on.  The  popular  London 
Fair  could  hardly  be  presented  with  less.  While  many  are 
no  more  than  the  supernumeraries  of  the  modern  stage, 
several  are  well  deserving  of  study,  especially  the  'Bar- 
tholomew birds,'  the  habitual  frequenters  of  the  Fair.  It 
I  is  doubtful  whether  Jonson  ever  drew  a  more  lifelike  woman 
than  Ursula.  She  is  not  at  all  a  heroine;  her  language 
savors  most  disagreeably  of  the  low  company  she  keeps ; 
but  this  huge,  waddling  pig-woman  is  hardly  less  a  living 
creation  than  Falstaff,  and,  though  she  lacks  his  geniality 
she  is  not  without  some  of  his  humor. 
j  Almost  as  well  drawn  is  Ursula's  companion,  Knockem, 
1  the  horse-courser.  That  Jonson,  the  man  of  books  and  the 
indefatigable  student  of  the  classics,  could  enter  so  heartily 
into  this  character  and  talk  his  very  language,  is  indeed  sur- 
prising. It  shows  his  many-sided  nature.  Mention  also 
should  be  njade  of  Whit,  Edgworth,  Nightingale,  Haggise, 
and  Bristle,  who  are  other  excellent  representatives  of  the 
familiar  characters  to  be  met  at  the  Fair. 

^  Beating  has  in  all  times  been  good  material  for  low  comedy,  and 
never  fails  to  catch  the  public  attention,  whether  it  be  in  tlte  time 
of  Aristophanes,  Plautus,  the  English  moralities,  or  Shakespeare. 


Introduction  xix 

Littlewit,  Purecraft,  Busy,  Overdo,  Cokes,  and  Grace 
Wellborn  suggest  something  of  the  dramatist's  humor-  \/ 
studies,  though  there  is  very  little  of  the  tedious  analysis 
that  not  infrequently  characterized  the  earlier  work.  Overdo 
is  artificial,  and  his  pompous  overdoing  is  overdone.  Grace 
Wellborn,  eminently  proper  and  respectable,  has  not  the 
least  girlishness  in  her  composition,  and  is  disappointing. 
In  no  other  character  is  the  sympathetic,  life-infusing  art 
of  Shakespeare  so  completely  lacking.  Busy  and  the  other 
characters  prominent  in  the  dramatist's  ridicule  of  the  Puri- 
tans, afford  an  interest  of  another  kind ;  together  with  the 
consideration  of  Jonson's  satire  I  reserve  them  for  the  fol- 
lowing section. 

Most  interesting  and  important  in  connection  with  Jon- 
son's treatment  of  character,  is  his  realism.  He  exhibits  a  ' 
wonderful  grasp  of  characteristic  detail,  and  yet  is  not 
unmindful  of  the  larger  effects.  Reference  already  has  been 
made  to  his  exact  knowledge  of  the  horse-courser's  lingo, 
and  almost  as  much  might  be  said  for  the  speech  of  the 
civil  cutpurse  and  his  assistant,  the  disreputable  Irishman,  y, 
the  ginger-bread  woman,  the  watchmen,  and  others.  How 
this  acquaintance  was  gained  we  do  not  know,  but  there 
can  be  no  question  of  an  intimate  knowledge  of  these  char- 
acters and  of  their  manner  of  life  as  well  as  of  their  speech. 

Jonson's  art  of  realism  is  certainly  remarkable  in  its 
power  to  bring  before  us  these  characters  almost  in  flesh  and 
blood.  Yet  that  which  is  merely  physical,  though  it  may 
arouse  an  interest  in  science,  certainly  does  not  in  literature, 
and  we  should  scarcely  care  to  dwell  so  long  on  the  ignoble 
phases  of  Jonson's  characters  were  they  much  more  truly 
alive.  The  ribald  speech  of  Ursula,  as  well  as  of  the  pup- 
pets, assuredly  has  no  place  in  the  province  of  art.  The 
play  is  great  in  spite  of,  not  because  of,  its  vulgarity.  Yet 
in  justice  to  Jonson  it  should  be  added  that  in  general  the  . 
atmosphere  of  the  plav  is  wholesome.  There  is  certainly  \ 
nothing  insidious  or  vicious  in  its  tendency.  Evil  is  made 
repulsive,  folly  and  hypocrisy  are  revealed  and  punished. 


XX  Introduction 

Our  playwright's  realism  is  further  open  to  criticism,  in 
the  little  sympathy  awakened  by  the  individual  character. 
How  can  we  sympathize  with  the  foolish  Cokes,  or  the 
overdoing  Justice,  or  the  doting  Littlewit?  Now  while  no 
group  of  people  such  as  are  to  be  found  at  a  popular  fair, 
fail  to  show  very  freely  their  weakness,  they  occasionally 
exhibit  their  excellences  as  well.  However  much  we  may 
laugh  at  Falstaff  or  Malvolio,  we  still  feel  a  kinship  and 
sympathy  with  them  such  as  none  of  Jonson's  characters 
calls  forth.  There  is  a  spiritual  element  in  Shakespeare's 
art  that  deals  with  things  other  than  the  merely  external. 
It  is  largely  for  this  reason  that,  in  comparing  the  low 
comedy  scenes  of  King  Henry  IV  with  Bartholomew  Fair, 
we  must  acknowledge  the  quality  of  Shakespeare's  realism 
to  be  superior,  though  in  the  energy  and  completeness  of  the 
picture,  Jonson's  comedy  is  not  surpassed. 

Jonson  more  than  any  other  Elizabethan  dramatist  iden- 
tified himself  with  London,  and  by  nature  was  peculiarly 
fitted  to  enter  into  the  life  of  the  great  Smithfield  Fair. 
Few  others  could  have  been  so  keen  and  accurate  in  their 
observations,  and  none  could  more  heartily  enjoy  its  rough, 
spontaneous  humor.  Bartholomew  Fair  excels  in  the 
varied  and  abounding  life  of  its  scenes,  and  offers  an 
extremely  rich  field  for  the  study  of  English  social  history. 


4.     Jonson's  Satire  of  the  Puritans. 

Jonson's  life  is  the  story  of  many  a  conflict.  Questions 
involving  moral  issues  strongly  attracted  him,  perhaps  not 
a  little  because  of  the  difference  of  opinion  and  the  opposi- 
tion that  they  were  sure  to  arouse.  In  treating  them  he 
did  not  evince  the  finest  subtlety,  but  he  never  showed  lack 
of  strength  and  courage.  Although  little  used  to  exalted 
emotion,  he  was  philosophical,  and  his  keen  and  active 
mind  delighted  to  penetrate  the  disguises  of  evil  and  expose 
the  insidious  foe.  His  hostile  attitude  and  mode  of  attack, 
he  himself  best  describes  : 


Introduction  xxi 

But,  with  an  armed  and  resolved  hand, 
ril  strip  the  ragged  follies  of  the  time 
Naked  as  at  their  birth    .     .     , 

.     .     .     and  with  a  whip  of  steel, 
Print  wounding  lashes  in  their  iron  ribs. 

Well,  I  will  scourge  those  apes, 
And  to  these  courteous  eyes  oppose  a  mirror, 
As  large  as  is  the  stage  whereon  we  act; 
Where  they  shall  see  the  time's  deformity 
Anatomized  in  every  nerve  and  sinew/ 

This  is  the  very  essence  of  satire,  such  as  had  its  origin 
among  the  Romans  and  such  as  Juvenal  wielded.  It  char- 
acterizes practically  all  of  Jonson's  work,  being  found  in  the 
epigrams,  odes,  masques,  and  in  all  the  comedies.  Though 
lacking  the  imperturbable  good  nature  and  'silvery  laughter' 
of  Moliere,  it  is  free  from  the  acerbity  and  hatred  of 
Swift.  Its  leading  feature  is  grim  seriousness  and  uncom- 
promising determination,  very  much  resembling  the  stern 
and  aggressive  spirit  of  the  reformer. 

Incidental  allusions  to  the  Puritans  abound  in  Jonson's 
writings,  but  for  our  study  The  Alchemist,  Bartholomew 
Fair,  and  The  Sad  Shepherd  will  be  found  of  especial 
importance,  particularly  the  first  two,  in  which  the  treatment 
of  Puritanism  constitutes  one  of  the  chief  interests  of  the 
plays,  representatives  of  this  class  being  included  in  the 
dramatis  personse  and  given  a  leading  part  in  the  action. 

The  satire  here  is  not  that  found  in  Jonson's  earlier  work. 
There  he  lapsed  not  infrequently  into  long  descriptions  and 
minute  character-analyses,  as  he  defined  with  a  scholar's 
exactness  the  follies  he  sought  to  expose.  The  defects  of 
this  kind  of  dramatic  satire  are  obvious.  A  play  requiring 
a  long  'Character  of  the  Persons'  by  way  of  preface  and 
explanation,  cannot  be  well  adapted  to  the  stage.  Such 
satire  might  perhaps  be  effective  in  the  essay,  but  certainly 
is  not  suited  to  the  drama. 

'  Ev.  Man  Out,  Works,  2.  12,  17. 


\J 


xxii  Introduction 

But  in  The  Alchemist  and  Bartholomew  Fair  the  satire  is 
embodied  in  the  characters  themselves.  Those  who  bring 
ridicule  upon  the  'brethren'  in  the  former,  are  none  other 
than  the  deacon,  Ananias,  and  the  pastor,  Tribulation 
Wholesome.  Both  are  easy  victims  of  an  alchemical  fraud ; 
in  their  desire  for  wealth,  conscience  and  principle  are  most 
elastic,  and  it  is  this  which  involves  them  in  ridicule  and  dis- 
grace. In  Bartholomew  Fair  Zeal-of-therland  Busy  and 
Dame  Purecraft  are  similarly  the  chief  maligners  of  the 
Puritans.'  The  former,  a  Banbury  baker,  has  given  up  his 
trade  because  his  'spiced  conscience'  would  not  allow  him 
to  furnish  cakes  for  May-poles,  wakes,  and  other  'profane' 
feasts.  He  now  prophesies,  and  for  his  gluttonous  sub- 
sistence leans  on  the  brethren  and  sisters  of  the  holy  cause. 
The  idolatrous  Bartholomew  Fair  fills  his  soul  with  horror, 
but  when  a  small  company  of  his  flock  are  determined  to 
visit  the  Fair  and  eat  pig,  he  is  easily  persuaded  to  justify 
their  action  and  to  go  with  them.  At  the  Fair  his  arrogant 
and  troublesome  zeal  urges  him  on  to  violence :  but  his 
ignorant  and  indiscriminate  attacks  come  absolutely  to 
naught,  occasioning  in  the  end  only  great  laughter.  Dame 
Purecraft  is  'a  wilful  holy  widow'  who  delights  in  the 
many  suitors  that  her  property,  dishonestly  acquired,  keeps 
about  her.  Being  given  to  superstition,  she  becomes  the 
victim  of  a  trick  resorted  to  by  a  gallant  who  marries  her 
solely  for  her  wealth. 

The  Sad  Shepherd,  being  a  pastoral  comedy,  scarcely 
would  permit  the  presence  of  a  Puritan,  and  consequently 
the  satire  is  not  as  dramatic.  In  their  speeches.  Clarion, 
Tuck,  Lionel,  and  Robin  Hood  severely  characterize  the 
'surly  shepherds'  who  frown  upon  their  sports ;  who  is 
meant  is  of  course  very  evident. 

As  Jonson's  attack  is  considered  more  in  detail,  it  will 
be  noted  from  how  many  different  points  he  assails  the 
Puritans,  showing  the  thoroughness  and  vigor  so  genuinely 
characteristic  of  him.  There  were,  however,  some  foibles, 
commonly  ridiculed,  which  he  passed  over  lightly,  and  others 


■f  THE  \ 

{   UMiVERSfTY  ] 

/ 

Introduction  xxiii 

which  he  did  not  touch  on  at  all.  This  has  an  important 
significance,  as  I  hope  to  show  later. 

The  Puritans'  dress  readily  distinguished  them.  There 
was  'ReHgion  in  their  garments,  and  their  hair  cut  shorter 
than  their  eyebrows.'^  But  the  external  peculiarities  could 
well  be  left  to  the  actors  together  with  the  designers  of  cos- 
tume; such  allusions  Jonson  makes  but  rarely.  As  he 
approached,  however,  what  has  more  intimately  to  do 
with  character — manners,  language,  hypocritical  subtleties 
— he  was  on  ground  that  as  a  writer  of  humor-studies  he 
especially  delighted  in.  Here  ridicule  attends  the  Puritans 
at  every  step. 

It  begins  with  their  names.  Tribulation  Wholesome, 
Ananias,  Win-the-fight,  Zeal-of-the-land  Busy,  which  Subtle 
contemptuously  says  are  affected  'Only  for  glory,  and  to 
catch  the  ear  of  the  disciple'.^ 

Jonson's  Puritans  are  great  talkers,  and  love  language 
that  is  large  and  solemn.  Their  graces  are  so  protracted 
that  the  meat  on  the  table  forgets  that  it  was  this  day  in  the 
kitchen.  They  call  themselves  the  'Saints' ;  they  are  of 
the  'separation',  devoted  to  the  'holy'  or  'sanctified  cause'. 
The  hobby-horses  for  sale  at  Bartholomew  Fair,  in  their 
language,  are  'apocryphal  wares',  the  seller  none  other  than 
the  'Nebuchadnezzar  of  the  Fair',  and  Busy,  in  his  icono- 
clastic zeal,  remorselessly  destroys  Joan's  gingerbread 
figures,   'her  basket  of  popery',  her  'nest  of  images'. 

Jonson's  Puritans  are  addicted  to  sophistry.  Ananias 
declares  that  Subtle  is  a  'heathen  and  speaks  the  language 
of  Canaan',  and  he  scruples  against  dealing  with  him 
because  'The  sanctified  cause  should  have  a  sanctified 
course'.  But  Tribulation  smooths  over  the  difficulty  by 
observing  that  'The  children  of  perdition  are  ofttimes 
made  instruments  even  of  the  greatest  works'.  Again,  Mrs. 
Littlewit  is  taken  with  a  desire  to  eat  pig  in  the  Fair.  Her 
mother.  Dame  Purecraft,  wishes  to  gratify  her  even  though 

^  Ev.  Man  Out,  Induct. 
^  Alchem.  Cun.  G.  ed.  4.  93. 


< 


i 


xxiv  Introduction 

the  Puritan  teaching  was  decidedly  averse  to  such  pleasures  ; 
so  Rabbi  Busy  is  sent  for  to  'raise  them  up  in  a  scruple'. 
He  begins  with  several  cant  expressions,  such  as  Bar- 
tholomew pig  'is  a  spice  of  idolatry',  but,  upon  being  urged, 
quickly  finds  that  the  matter  'is  subject  to  construction',  and 
that  'in  midst  of  the  profane',  pig  may  'be  eaten  with  a 
reformed  mouth,  with  sobriety  and  humbleness'.  And  thus 
it  is  easily  brought  about  that  within  less  than  an  hour  John 
and  Mrs.  Littlewit  are  enjoying  the  traditional  delicacy  of 
Bartholomew  Fair,  accompanied  by  Dame  Purecraft  and 
also  Rabbi  Busy. 

Closely  associated  with  the  language  of  the  Puritans,  and 
equally  vulnerable,  was  their  scrupulosity,  which  all  of  Jon- 
son's  Puritans  affect.  Ananias,  offended  by  the  heathen 
doctor's  'Christmas',  which  at  once  suggests  popery  to  him, 
interrupts  with,  'Christ-tide,  I  pray  you'.  Similarly,  Busy 
will  not  allow  himself  to  be  called  a  'godfather',  but  a 
'witness'. 
•  ^  Still  less  does  their  narrowness  and  intolerance  escape 
^/  without  many  a  sharp  attack.  Busy  in  the  stocks  threatens 
the  philosophical  Overdo,  repeating  bits  of  Latin  authors  for 
his  own  consolation,  that  he  will  'leave  to  communicate'  his 
spirit  if  he  hears  'any  more  of  those  superstitious  relics, 
those  lists  of  Latin,  the  very  rags  of  Rome,  and  patches  of 
popery'.^  For  the  Catholic  faith  to  Busy  was  synonymous 
with  idolatry,  and  things  as  far  removed  from  priestcraft  as 
Joan's  artistic  gingerbread-creations  made  him  burn  with 
indignation.  No  one  would  ever  charge  Busy  with  too 
much  learning ;  as  Quarlous  wittily  remarks :  'He  will  ever 
be  in  the  state  of  innocence  though  and  childhood ;  derides 
all  antiquity,  defies  any  other  learning  than  inspiration  ;  and 
what  discretion  soever,  years  should  afford  him,  it  is  all 
prevented  in  his  original  ignorance.'^ 

Busy,  like  Ananias,  is  carried  along  by  his  zeal,  and  the 
promptings  of  the  spirit  lead  him  into  gross  absurdities.     Of 

^  103.  22.  *  19.  12. 


+ 


< 


Introduction  xxv 

these,  none  is  more  thoroughly  in  the  spirit  of  comic  satire 
than  his  attack  on  the  stage  and  his  controversy  with  the 
puppets.  In  this  Jonson  ridiculed  most  effectively  the 
unreasonable  attitude  which  the  Puritans  took  towards  the 
stage,  and  the  general  ignorance  of  their  attacks,  which 
already  were  common. 

The  Puritans'  intolerance  extended  farther  than  to  plays 
and  fairs ;  Busy  puts  with  them  in  a  general  condemnation, 
May-games,  morris-dances,  wakes,  and  wedding- feasts  ;  the 
prophesying  Elder  to  whom  a  hobby-horse  was  an  idol,  and 
a  drum  the  broken  belly  of  the  beast,  could  have  no  sym- 
pathy with  mirth.  This  spirit  of  severity  and  intolerance 
Jonson  satirized  again  in  The  Sad  Shepherd,  when  Robin 
Hood  suggests  a  song  and  dance  in  the  wood,  affirming: 
Such  are  the  rites  the  youthful  June  allow. 

To  which  Clarion  replies : 

They  were,  gay  Robin;   but  the  sourer  sort 
Of  shepherds  now  disclaim  in  all  such  sport. 

And  Lionel  adds : 

They  call  ours  Pagan  pastimes  that  infect 

Our  blood  with  ease,  our  youth  with  all  neglect ; 

Our  tongues  with  wantonness,  our  thoughts  with  lust; 

And  what  they  censure  ill,  all  others  must.^ 

In  their  conduct  of  life,  Jonson's  Puritans  are  anything  /\ 
but  spiritually  minded.  Ananias  and  Tribulation  Whole- 
some seek  after  the  riches  that  perish,  and  by  the  most 
foolish  of  means.  Busy  and  Dame  Purecraft,  according  to 
the  latter's  confession,  have  like  worldly  tendencies.  Busy, 
further,  is  a  glutton ;  he  eats  pig  and  drinks  ale  at  the  Fair 
in  a  way  that  shows  his  gastronomic  powers  are  no  whit 
inferior  to  those  of  Moliere's  Tartuffe. 

As  the  application  of  principles  to  life  is  further  consid- 
ered, the  Puritans  are  found  engaged  in  certain  rather  sur- 
prising vocations.  While  Stubbes  and  others,  like  Busy, 
denounced  the  wearers  of  feathers  and  similar  vanities,  not 


^  Cun.  G.  ed.  6.  245. 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 


xxvi  Introduction 

a  few  of  their  number  had  a  good  Hving  from  the  making 
and  selling  of  them.  This  was  a  well  known  fact  in  the 
London  of  Jonson's  time,  and  was  so  thoroughly  inconsistent 
that  he  found  pleasure  in  returning  to  it  several  times. 

As  the  Puritans  did  not  hesitate  to  adopt  the  singularities 
Y  of  dress,  so  in  their  profession  and  living  they  seemed  to 
experience  a  joy  in  being  of  the. Separation,  a  joy  that  was 
decidedly  self-centered.  Busy,  when  thrust  into  the  stocks, 
was  'glad  to  be  thus  separated  from  the  heathen  of  the  land'. 
Ananias  was  so  imbued  with  the  same  spirit  that  he  failed 
to  recognize  that  the  magistrate  possessed  any  jurisdiction 
over  him,  and  so  had  no  scruple  in  pursuing  the  project,  for- 
bidden by  law,  of  the  private  coinage  of  gold. 

Finally,  with  all  their  scrupulosity,  the  Puritans  are  not 
to  be  credited  with  common  honesty.  Subtle  boldly  charges" 
this  and  Tribulation  does  not  deny  it,  though  in  his  sophistry 
he  glosses  it  over.  It  is  Dame  Purecraft  herself  who  tells 
Quarlous  of  Busy's  practice  of  robbing  heirs  of  property 
left  in  his  trust,  and  of  her  own  still  more  effective  device 
of  extorting  alms  for  various  specious  charities  which  really 
ended  in  herself.  Similarly,  but  more  sternly,  some  years 
later  in  The  Sad  Shepherd  were  the  Puritans  charged 

With  covetise  and  rage,  when  to  their  store 
They  add  the  poor  man's  yeanling,  and  dare  sell 
Both  fleece  and  carcass,  not  gi'ing  him  the  fell.^ 

As  we  have  thus  enumerated  the  charges  made  by  Jonson, 
the  question  naturally  suggested  is.  How  far  were  they  just? 
There  are  some  that  can  be  dismissed  almost  at  a  glance, 
for  The  AlcUemist  and  Bartholomew  Fair  are  comedy  as 
well  as  satire,  and  other  characters,  as  well  as  the  Puritans, 
are  often  distorted  and  made  ridiculous  in  order  to  amuse. 
Yet  in  gelieral  Jonson  was  serious  even  in  his  jesting. 

In  seeking  rightly  to  estimate  the  Puritans,  we  have  the 
perspective  of  three  hundred  years  to  aid  us,  and  it  is  easy 
to  judge  to-day  with  a  degree  of  fairness  such  as  was  almost 
impossible  for  a  contemporary  dramatist. 

'  Cun.  G.  ed.  6.  245. 


Introduction  xxvii 

■» 

Jonson's  Puritans  are  hypocrites.  But  history  tells  us  of 
men  who,  to  worship  God  according  to  their  ideas  of  right, 
left  home,  endured  years  of  exile,  and  finally  braved  the 
perils  and  hardships  attendant  upon  a  settlement  in  a  wild 
and  unknown  land.  It  tells  us  also  of  their  kinsmen  who, 
remaining  in  England,  for  the  sake  of  political  and  religious 
liberty  resisted  royal  despotism  and  underwent  the  horrors 
of  civil  war.  The  belief  that  produced  such  men  could  not 
be  essentially  hypocritical. 

But  the  mass  of  Puritans  was  by  no  means  on  the  same 
level  as  the  ardent  leaders.  Cromwell's  and  Milton's 
frequent  remonstrances  are  evidence  to  the  contrary.  And, 
further,  not  infrequently  it  is  true  that  men  who  have  the 
quality  for  making  gallant  soldiers  or  explorers,  are  not  the 
most  desirable  neighbors.  The  very  iiltensity  with  which 
the  Puritans  sought  what  they  considered  the  essentials  of 
character,  made  them  likely  to  neglect  the  cultivation  of  the 
more  easily  acquired,  and  perhaps  more  natural,  virtues. 
Their  lives  commonly  lacked  a  beautiful  symmetry,  and 
among  the  ignorant  abounded  in  inconsistencies. 

Thus  while  Jonson's  satire  as  a  whole  was  unfair  to  the 
Puritans,  each  individual  point  was  not  without  much  justi- 
fication. These  people  certainly  were  odd  in  their  dress ; 
with  some  this  was  but  a  natural  result  of  their  strong 
aversion  to  the  extravagance  of  a  city  and  land  which  went 
wild  over  new  and  absurd*  styles ;'  with  others  it  was  an 
affectation.  *  Even  the  former  must  have  found  it  difficult 
not  to  become  self-conscious — perhaps  vain  of  their  freedom 
from  vanity. 

That  their  language  was  stilted  and  bombastic,  contempo- 
rary literature  gives  abundant  proof.  Especially  writings 
intended  to  correct  the  follies  of  the  time,  such  as  Philip 
Stubbes'  Anatomy  of  Abuses,  show  how  ridiculous  were  the 
titanic  denunciations  brought  to  bear  on  peccadillos  too 
insignificant  for  notice.  The  language  of  the  Puritans  was 
loaded  with  Biblical  illustrations  and  phrases,  sometimes  to 
a  degree  that  now  would  seem  almost  profane.     But  the 


xxviii  Introduction 

Bible  to  many  was  their  only  book,  and  in  it  they  found  a 
guide  for  even  the  trivial  incidents  of  every  day.  And  what 
wonder  that  they  fell  into  occasional  errors  by  interpreting 
it  too  narrowly !  Of  its  pervading  influence  Green  gives  an 
admirable  statement  in  his  History  of  the  English  People:^ 

The  power  of  the  Book  [the  Bible]  over  the  mass  of  Englishmen 
showed  itself  in  a  thousand  superficial  ways,  and  in  none  more  con- 
spicuously than  in  the  influence  on  ordinary  speech.  It  formed,  we 
must  repeat,  the  whole  literature  which  was  practically  accessible  to 
ordinary  Englishmen;  and  when  we  recall  the  number  of  common 
phrases  which  we  owe  to  great  authors,  the  bits  of  Shakespeare,  or 
Milton,  or  Dickens,  or  Thackeray,  which  unconsciously  interweave 
themselves  in  our  ordinary  talk,  we  shall  better  understand  the 
strange  mosaic  of  Biblical  words  and  phrases  which  colored  English 
talk  two  hundred  years  ago. 

By  far  the  most  serious  of  the  minor  charges  in  our 
author's  satire  was  that  of  narrowness  and  jntolerance. 
Before  1595  the  main  causes  of  difference  between  Puritan 
and  churchman  had  been  questions  of  ceremony — as  the 
wearing  of  the  surpHce,  the  reading  of  the  service,  the  rite 
of  baptism,  the  location  of  the  communion  table,  etc.  Had 
either  party  shown  breadth  in  their  views  and  a  little  toler- 
ance, the  separation  might  never  have  occurred.  This 
unyielding  spirit  on  the  part  of  the  Puritans  in  no  small 
degree  was  due  to  their  dread  of  the  Catholics,  whom  they 
treated  with  bitter  hostility.  Anything  that  contained  the 
least  suggestion  of  papacy  was  to  be  fought  to  the  death; 
their  imaginations  were  not  less  active  than  Busy's  in  con- 
juring up  these  delusive  foes ;  and  they  fell  into  what  Bacon 
calls   'a,  superstition  in  avoiding  a  superstition.' 

Nor  were  they  much  kinder  to  others  outside  of  the 
English  Church  who  differed  from  themselves.  This  was 
shown  in  the  New  World  by  their  treatment  of  tlie  Quakers, 
and  the  cruel  retaliations  which  they  practised  upon  the 
Indians.  In  the  home-land  they  could  not  exercise  the  same 
independence,  yet  many  believed  quite  as  strongly  that  they 


Introduction  xxix 

were  God's  chosen  people,  surrounded  by  the  heathen 
Canaanites ;  and  so  intent  were  they  in  heeding  the  Old 
Testament  warning  against  contamination  that  they  quite 
overlooked  the  New  Testament  exhortation  to  love  and  ser- 
vice. This  extreme  form  of  the  Puritans'  spirit  of  separa- 
tion, supported  by  conceit,  perverseness,  intolerance,  and 
cruelty,  is  what  Bishop  Hall  especially  stigmatized  in  his 
Apology  against  the  Brownists.  Bacon  severely  character- 
ized the  same,  also,  in  his  essay.  Unity  in  Religion :  'It  is 
certain,  that  heresies  and  schisms  are  of  all  others  the 
greatest  scandals,  yea,  more  than  corruption  of  manners.' 

Busy  is  a  glutton ;  but  with  the  austere  simplicity  of  the 
Puritans,  frugality  and  abstemiousness  much  more  com- 
monly prevailed.  Busy  is  characterized  by  his  inspired 
ignorance,  but  the  Puritans  of  history  founded  schools  and 
colleges ;  though  not  always  broad  and  liberal  in  their  cul- 
ture, they  fostered  learning  as  no  other  people  of  their  time. 
Busy,  Purecraft,  Ananias,  and  Wholesome  were  dishonest, 
and  the  same  charge,  with  stern  plainness,  is  repeated  in  The 
Sad  Shepherd.  But  dishonesty  is  so  far  removed  from 
what  history  tells  us  of  the  rigid  moral  integrity  of  the 
Puritans,  that  although  no  doubt  there  was  ground  for  Jon- 
son's  accusation  in  individual  cases — and  they  may  have 
been  intensified  to  his  mind  by  personal  observation — this 
charge  is  not  worth  our  attention.  The  Puritans  formed 
much  too  large  a  class  not  to  have  some  rogues  hiding 
among  them.  And,  as  is  always  the  way  in  times  of 
religious  prejudice  and  persecution,  all  kinds  of  fanatics  and 
enthusiasts  were  loosely  classed  with  them ;  and  further, 
without  the  least  ground  for  suspicion,  crimes  and  absurd 
false  plots  were  fathered  upon  them.^ 

Jonson  was  in  the  front  rank,  but  by  no  means  alone,  in  his 
attack  on  the  Puritans.-      The  Jacobean  dramatists  who  made 

^  Cf.  Neal,  I.  219,  343.  t 

'  For  a  much  more  extended  view  of  this  conflict,  see  Thompson's 
Controversy  between  the  Puritans  and  the  Stage;  part  2,  in  which 
the  author  considers  'The  Dramatists'  Reply  to  the  Puritans,'  is 
particularly  related  to  our  subject. 


XXX  Introduction 

no  allusion  to  the  class  that  so  vigorously  assailed  them  are 
indeed  few.  These  allusions,  sometimes  in  the  form  of 
harmless  jokes,  again  of  downright  scurrility,  for  the  most 
part  are  too  insignificant  to  warrant  our  attention.  But 
there  are  certain  plays  more  ambitious  in  their  satire.  The 
Puritan,  1607,  whose  authorship,  variously  attributed  to 
Shakespeare,  Middleton  and  others,  is  unknown,  makes  sev- 
eral of  the  holy  society  ridiculous  through  their  hypocrisy 
and  stupidity.  This  play  is  a  very  poor  farce,  and  the 
imbecility,  the  puerile  dishonesty  represented  as  character- 
izing the  Puritans,  is  so  overdrawn  that  it  is  inefifective  as 
satire. 

In  The  Family  of  Love,  1608,  Middleton  devoted  an  entire 
comedy  to  equal  nonsense.  A  band  of  religious  enthusiasts, 
known  by  this  name,  seems  to  have  been  organized  by 
Heinrich  Niclaes  about  1555.  They  were  guided,  they  pro- 
fessed, by  Divine  Love,  but  their  enemies  said,  by  carnal 
affection.  So  that  classifying  them  under  the  general 
name  of  Puritans,  as  often  was  done,  cast  a  slur  upon  the 
latter.  Middleton,  in  his  satire,  depicts  wanton  sensuality 
masquerading  in  the  guise  of  religious  enthusiasm,  together 
with  some  of  the  common  foibles  of  the  city  Puritan.  The 
whole  is  done  in  such  a  way,  Ward  observes,  'as  to  lead  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  dramatist  knew  little  or  nothing  of 
the  principles  or  practices  which  he  was  attempting  to 
satirize.'^  In  A  Chaste  Maid  in  Cheapside,  1630,  by  the 
same  author,  some  Puritan  women  appear  at  a  congratu- 
latory party ;  they  converse  most  inanely,  and  are  so  unim- 
portant as  not  even  to  be  distinguished  by  names. 

In  The  Muse's  Looking  Glass;  1634,  Randolph  makes 
Bird,  a  feather-maker,  and  Mrs.  Flowerdew,  a  seller  of 
pins  and  looking-glasses,  both  Puritans  of  Blackfriars,  the 
leading  characters.  Their  cant  and  extravagant  language, 
the  inconsistency  of  their  dealing  in  feathers,  and  their 
ignorant  hostility  to  the  stage,  are  well  satirized.  It  is 
important  to  note  that  Randolph  was  one  of  the  Sons  of 

^Hist.  Eng.  Dram.  Lit.  2.  517. 


Introduction  xxxi 

Ben,  and  that  in  this  comedy,  both  in  his  manner  and  in 
what  he  satirized,  he  was  plainly  influenced  by  the  older 
poet. 

Viewed  as  a  whole,  the  satire  of  contemporary  drama- 
tists against  the  Puritans  was  scattered  and  fragmentary. 
The  few  who  give  the  Puritans  more  attention,  render  their 
shafts  ineffective  by  their  carelessness  of  aim  and  indiffer- 
ence in  manner.  Randolph  is  an  exception,  but  he  follows 
Jonson  so  closely  that  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  give  him 
special  consideration. 

It  is  a  fact  of  no  little  significance  that,  while  Jonson 
scrutinized  the  typical  and  individual  failings  of  the  Puri- 
tans with  a  thoroughness  that  makes  his  satire  surpass  that 
of  all  the  other  dramatists  put  together,  nowhere  in  his 
comedies  does  he  charge  them  with  social  impurity.  I  can- 
not regard  it  as  accidental ;  the  suggestion  of  making  such 
an  accusation  certainly  is  found  in  Marston's  Malcontent, 
The  Puritan,  and  Middleton's  Family  of  Love,  all  of  which 
were  produced  a  few  years  previous  to  The  Alchemist; 
neither  Jonson's  delicacy  nor  the  standards  of  the  times 
would  have  stigmatized  such  a  subject  as  improper  for  the 
stage. 

The  evidence  is  fairly  conclusive  that  Jonson  deliberately 
chose  not  to  make  such  a  charge,  and  that  in  his  hostility 
he  practised  moderation,  laying  hold  only  of  that  which  in 
his  judgment  rightly  deserved  the  lash.  Nor  is  this  incon- 
sistent with  his  satire  on  the  dishonesty  and  hypocrisy  of 
the  Puritans,  although,  as  I  have  said,  these  failings  are 
not  to  be  regarded  as  characterizing  the  class  as  a  whole. 
Jonson  was  a  man  of  strong  prejudices,  and  even  a  few 
cases  of  religious  imposition  and  deceit  brought  to  his 
attention  might  easily  have  colored  a  feeling  already  some- 
what averse  to  the  Puritans.  What  seems  to  be  his 
real  judgment  regarding  them,  expressed  in  plain  and 
concise  form,  is  found  in  a  passage  in  Timber,  which  I 
translate:  The  Puritan  hypocrite  is  a  fanatic  mentally 
unbalanced  by  a  belief  in  his  own  peculiar  vision,  by  which 


xxxii  Introduction 

he  thinks  he  has  discovered  certain  errors  in  a  few  of  the 
dogmas  of  the  church.  Thence  seized  by  a  holy  frenzy, 
he  madly  resists  the  magistrates,  believing  that  he  is  thus 
showing  obedience  to  God/ 

That  Jonson,  of  all  the  Jacobean  dramatists,  should  have 
been  the  one  especially  to  attack  the  Puritans,  is  extremely 
paradoxical.  At  heart  he  was  a  very  Puritan  himself.  He 
could  never  resist  an  opportunity  for  preaching;  as  he 
says  in  the  Prologue  of  The  Alchemist ^ 

This  pen 
Did  never  aim  to  grieve,  but  better  men. 

More  than  once  he  himself  attacked  the  stage,  and  far 
surpassed  the  similar  efforts  of  the  Puritans,  because  he 
knew  better  of  what  he  spoke.  But  Jonson  resembled  the 
Puritans  also  in  their  failings:  he  lacked  tolerance  and 
sympathy.  As  it  was  not  easy  for  him  to  appreciate  a 
rival  playwright,  it  was  also  difficult  for  him  to  do  justice 
to  a  rival  moralist.  And  for  himself  to  attack  his  own 
profession  was  quite  different  from  standing  silently  by, 
and  seeing  outsiders  ignorantly  and  abusively  attempt  the 
same.  The  latter,  to  a  man  of  his  combative  nature,  was 
a  challenge  which  professional  honor  would  not  allow 
him  to  ignore.  His  attitude  toward  the  Puritans,  further, 
may  have  been  influenced  not  a  little  by  religious  prejudice. 
From  the  Conversations  with  Drummond  we  know  that  for 
twelve  years  after  his  imprisonment  in  1598,  he  was  a  pro- 
fessed Catholic.  Could  the  Puritans'  absurd  fears  and  bitter 
denunciations  of  popery  have  failed  to  awaken  antagonism 
in  this  rough  fighter? 

Finally,  Jonson  was  hostile  to  the  Puritans  because  he 
failed  to  appreciate  their  real  spirit.  As  has  already  been 
observed,  his  genius  was  powerful  and  massive  rather  than 
delicate  and  graceful.  There  was  a  lack  of  the  finest 
feeling.  He  gloried  in  the  great  monuments  of  philo- 
sophical and  scientific  knowledge,  but  the  noble  idealism 
that  transcends  all  that  is  mere  intellect,  he  only  dimly 


Introduction  xxxiii 

apprehended.  His  attitude  toward  Shakespeare  was  dis- 
tinguished by  a  large  and  generous  admiration,  and  yet  it 
was  an  admiration  chiefly  of  the  remarkable  powers  of  a 
master-mind.  The  same  limitation  marks  Jiis  portrayal  of 
the  Puritans.  He  did  not  exhibit  the  poet's  power  of  seeing 
deep  into  their  spirit.  Thus  his  satire  fails  to  be  the  truest 
and  most  convincing,  and  at  times  borders  upon  caricature. 
This  was  how  Bartholomew  Fair  impressed  Samuel  Pepys 
as  he  saw  it  in  1668:  Tt  is  an  excellent  play;  the  more  I 
see  it,  the  more  I  love  the  wit  of  it;  only  the  business  of 
abusing  the  Puritans  begins  to  grow  stale,  and  of  no  use, 
they  being  the  people  that,  at  last,  will  be  found  the  wisest.' 


BARTHOLMEW 

FAYRE:; 

A   COMEDIE, 

ACTED  IN  THE 

YEARE,   1 6 14. 

By  the  Lady  ELIZABETHS 
Servants. 

And  then  dedicated  to  King  lAMES,  of 
moft  Bleffed  Memorie  ; 

By  the  Author,  BENIAMIN  IOHNSON. 


Si  foret  in  terris,  rideret   Democritus  :   nam 
Spedlaret  populum  ludis  attentius  ipfis, 
Vt  fcbi  prt^bentem,  mimo  fpedlacula  plura. 
Scripiores  autem  narrare  putaret  ajfello 
Fabellam  furdo.  Hor.  lib.  2.  Epifl.  I. 


[Device  of  a 
"Wolf's  Head 
Erased,  etc.] 


LONDON, 

Printed  by  /.  B.  for  Robert  Allot,  and  are 
to  be  fold  at  the  figne  of  the  Beare,  in  Pauls 
Church-yard.  1631. 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 


THE 

PROLOGVE 

TO 

THE  KINGS 

MAJESTY. 


Y 


Our  Maiefly  is  welcome  to  a  Fayre  ; 

Such  place ^  fuch  men,  fuch  language  &=  fuch  ware. 

You  mujl  expeSl  :  with  thefe,  the  zealous  noyfe 

Of  your  lands  Fa6lion,  fcandaliz'd  at  toyes. 

As  Babies,  Hobby-horfes,  Puppet-play es, 

And  fuch  like  rage,  whereof  the  petulant  wayes 

Your  felfe  haue  knowne,  and  haue  bin  vext  with  long, 

Thefe  for  your  f port,  without  perticular  wrong, 

Or  iufl  complaint  of  any  priuate  man, 

( Who  of  himfelfe,  or  fhall  thinke  well  or  can) 

The  Maker  doth  prefent :  and  hopes,  to  night 

To  giue  you  for  a  Fayring,  true  delight. 


THE  PERSONS 


OF  THE  PLAY. 


lOHN    LiTTLEWIT. 

Win  Little-wit. 
Dame  Pvrecraft. 
Zeal-of-the-land  Bvsy. 
Win-wife. 

QVARLOVS. 

Bartholmew  Cokes. 

HVMPHREY    WaSPE. 

Adam  Over-doo. 
Dame  Overdoo. 
Grace  Welborne. 
Lant.   Leatherhead. 
loANE  Trash. 

EZECHIEL    EdGWORTH. 

Nightingale. 
Vrsla. 
Moon-calfe. 
Jordan  Knock-hvm. 
Val.   Cvtting. 
Captaine  Whit. 
PvNQVE  Alice. 
Trovble-All. 


A  Proeior. 

His  wife. 

Her  mother  and  a  widdow. 

Her  Suitor^  a  Banbury  man. 

His  Riuall^  a  Gentleman. 

His  companion^  a  Gamejier. 

An  Ef quire  of  Harrow. 

His  man. 

A  luflice  of  Peace. 

His  wife. 

His  Ward. 

A  Hobbi-horfe  feller . 

A  Ginger-bread  woman. 

A  Cutpurfe. 

A  Ballad- finger. 

A  Pigge-woman.  * 

Her  Tapfler. 

A  Horfe-courfer^  and  ranger 

A  Roarer.  [o'  Turnbull, 

A  Bawd. 

Miflreffe  o'the  Game. 

A  Madman. 


-"Whtchmen,  three. 
CosTARD-monger. 
MovsETRAP-man. 
Clothier. 
Wrestler. 
Porters, 
doore-keepers. 

PVPPETS. 
WATCHMEN,  three,  j6g2  :   Three  Watchmen  ijid,  W 


J4t*t; 


THE    INDVCTION. 

ON  THE   STAGE. 

Stage-Keeper. 

Gentlemen^  haue  a  little  patience,  they  are  e'en 
vpon  comming,  inflantly.  He  that  fhould 
beginne  the  Play,  Mailer  Littiewit^  the  FroHor^ 
has  a  flitch  new  falne  in  his  black  filk  flocking  ; 
'twill  be  drawn  vp  ere  you  can  tell  twenty.  He  playes  5 
one  o'the  Arches^  that  dwels  about  the  Hofpitall^  and  hee 
has  a  very  pretty  part.  But  for  the  whole  Flay^  will  you 
ha'the  truth  on't  ?  (I  am  looking,  lell  the  Poet  heare  me, 
or  his  man,  Mafler  Broome^  behind  the  Arras)  it  is  like  to 
be  a  very  conceited  fcuruy  one,  in  plaine  Englifh.  When't  10 
comes  to  the  Fayre^  once  :  you  were  e'en  as  good  goe  to 
Uirginia,  for  any  thing  there  is  of  Smith-field.  Hee  has 
not  hit  the  humors,  he  do's  not  know  'hem  ;  hee  has  not 
conuers'd  with  the  Bartholmew-birds,  as  they  fay  ;  hee  has 
ne're  a  Sword,  and  Buckler  man  in  his  Fayre^  nor  a  little  15 
Dauy^  to  take  toll  o'the  Bawds  there,  as  in  my  time,  nor  a 
Kind-heart,  if  any  bodies  teeth  fhould  chance  to  ake  in  his 
Flay.  Nor  a  lugler  with  a  wel-educated  Ape  to  come 
ouer  the  chaine,  for  the  King  of  England,  and  backe  againe 
for  the  Frince,  and  fit  flill  on  his  arfe  for  the  Fope,  and  the  20 
King  of  Spaine\  None  o'these  fine  fights  !  Nor  has  he 
the  Canuas-cut  *ithe  night,  for  a  Hobby-horfeman  to 
creepe  into  his  fhe-neighbour,  and  take  his  leap  there  ! 
Nothing  !  No,  and  fome  writer  (that  I  know)  had  had  but 
the  penning  o'this  matter,    hee  would  ha'made  you  fuch   25 


6  THE  INDVCTION. 

a  lig-ajogge  i'the  boothes,  you  Ihould  ha'thought  an 
earthquake  had  beene  i'the  Fayre\  But  thefe  Mafler- 
Poets^  they  will  ha'their  owne  abfurd  courfes  ;  they  will 
be  inform'd  of  nothing  !  Hee  has  {firreuerence)  kick'd  me 
5  three,  or  foure  times  about  the  Tyring-houfe,  I  thanke 
him,  for  but  offering  to  putt  in,  with  my  experience.  Tie 
be  iudg'd  by  you,  Gentlemen^  now,  but  for  one  conceit  of 
mine  !  would  not  a  fine  Pumpe  vpon  the  Stage  ha'done 
well,  for  a  property  now  ?    and  a  Punque  fet  vnder  vpon 

lo  her  head,  with  her  Sterne  vpward,  and  ha'beene  fouf 'd  by 
my  wity  young  maflers  o'the  Innes  o' Court  ?  what  thinke 
you  o'this  for  a  fhew,  now  ?  hee  will  not  heare  o'this!  I 
am  an  Affe  !  I  !  and  yet  I  kept  the  Stage  in  Mafler  Tarle- 
tons  time,  I  thanke  my  flarres.       Ho  !  and  that  man  had 

15  liu'd  to  haue  play'd  in  Bartholmew  Fayre,  you  fhould 
ha'feene  him  ha'come  in,  and  ha'beene  coozened  i'the 
Cloath-quarter,  fo  finely  !  And  Adams,  the  Rogue,  ha' 
leap'd  and  caper'd  vpon  him,  and  ha'dealt  his  vermine 
about,  as  though  they  had  cofl  him  nothing.       And  then  a 

20  fubftantiall  watch  to  ha'flolne  in  vpon  'hem,  and  taken 
'hem  away,  with  millaking  words,  as  the  fafliion  is,  in  the 
Stage-^r2i^icQ, 

Booke-holder  :  Scriuener.      To  him. 

Booke.     How  now  ?     what  rare  difcourfe  are  you  falne 
vpon?  ha?  ha'you  found  any  familiars  here,  that  you  are 
25    fo  free  ?  what's  the  bufineffe  ? 

Sta.     Nothing,  but  the  vnderflanding  Gentlemen  o'the 
ground  here,  ask'd  my  iudgement. 

Booke.     Your  iudgement,  Rafcall  ?  for  what  ?  fweeping 

the  Stage  ?    or  gathering  vp   the   broken   Apples  for  the 

30   beares  within  ?     Away  Rogue,  it's  come  to  a  fine  degree 


THE  INDVCTION.  7 

in  thefe  fpe^acles  when  fuch  a  youth  as  you  pretend  to  a 
iudgement.  And  yet  hee  may,  i'the  moft  o'this  matter 
i'faith  :  For  the  Author  hath  writ  it  iuft  to  his  Meridian^ 
and  the  Scale  of  the  grounded  Judgements  here,  his  Play- 
fellowes  in  wit.  Gentlemen  ;  not  for  want  of  a  Prologue^  e 
but  by  way  of  a  new  one,  I  am  fent  out  to  you  here,  with 
a  Scriuener,  and  certaine  Articles  drawne  out  in  haft 
betweene  our  Author,  and  you  ;  which  if  you  pleafe  to 
heare,  and  as  they  appeare  reafonable,  to  approue  of  ;  the 
Flay  will  follow  prefently.  Read,  Scribe,  gi'me  the  Counter-  i© 
paine. 

Scr.  Articles  of  Agreement,  indented,  betweene  the 
Spe^ators  or  Hearers,  at  the  Hope  on  the  Bankefide,  in 
the  County  of  Surrey  on  the  one  party  ;  And  the  Author  of 
Bartholmew  Fayre  in  the  faid  place,  and  County  on  the  15 
other  party  :  the  one  and  thirtieth  day  of  O^ob.  16 14.  and 
in  the  twelfth  yeere  of  the  Raigne  of  our  Soueragine  Lord, 
I  AMES  by  the  grace  of  God  King  of  England,  France,  (Sr* 
Ireland  ;  Defender  of  the  faith.  And  of  Scotland thQ  feauen 
and  fortieth.  20 

Inprimis,  It  is  couenanted  and  agreed,  by  and  betweene 
the  parties  abouefaid,  and  the  faid  Spe^ators,  and  Hearers, 
afwell  the  curious  and  enuious,  as  the  fauouring  and 
iudicious,  as  alfo  the  grounded  Judgements  and  vnder- 
flandings,  doe  for  themfelues  feuerally  Couenant,  and  25 
agree  to  remaine  in  the  places,  their  money  or  friends 
haue  put  them  in,  with  patience,  for  the  fpace  of  two 
houres  and  an  halfe,  and  fomewhat  more.  In  which  time 
the  Author  promifeth  to  prefent  them  by  vs,  with  a  new 
fufficient  Play  called  Bartholmew  Fayre,  merry,  and  30 
as  full  of  noife,  as  fport  :  made  to  delight  all,  and  to 
22     abouefaid]  aforesaid  G 


8  THE  INDVCTION. 

offend   none.       Prouided   they   haue   either,    the   wit    or 
the  honefly  to  thinke  well  of  themfelues. 

It  is  further  agreed  that  euery  perfon  here,  haue  his  or 
their  free-will  of  cenfure,  to  like  or  diflike  at  their  owne 
5  charge,  the  Author  hauing  now  departed  with  his  right: 
It  fhall  be  lawful!  for  any  man  to  iudge  his  fix  pen'orth 
his  twelue  pen'orth,  fo  to  his  eighteene  pence,  2.  fhillings, 
halfe  a  crowne,  to  the  value  of  his  place:  Prouided  alwaies 
his  place  get  not  aboue  his  wit.     And  if  he  pay  for  halfe  a 

10  dozen,  hee  may  cenfure  for  all  them  too,  fo  that  he  will 
vndertake  that  they  fhall  bee  filent.  Hee  fhall  put  in  for 
Cenfures  here,  as  they  doe  for  lots  at  the  lottery :  mary  if  he 
drop  but  fixe  pence  at  the  doore,  and  will  cenfure  a 
crownes  worth,   it  is  thought  there  is  no  confcience,   or 

15    iuilice  in  that. 

It  is  alfo  agreed,  that  euery  man  heere,  exercife  his 
owne  ludgement,  and  not  cenfure  by  Contagion,  or  vpon 
tru^,  from  anothers  voice,  or  face,  that  fits  by  him,  be  he 
neuer  fo  firfl,  in  the  Commtfsion  of  Wit :  As  alfo,  that  hee 

20  bee  fixt  and  fettled  in  his  cenfure,  that  what  hee  approues, 
or  not  approues  to  day,  hee  will  doe  the  fame  to  morrow, 
and  if  to  morrow,  the  next  day,  and  fo  the  next  weeke 
(if  neede  be  :)  and  not  to  be  brought  about  by  any  that  fits 
on  the  Bench  with  him,  though  they  indite,  and  arraigne 

25  Playes  daily.  Hee  that  will  fweare,  leronimo,  or  Andronicus 
are  the  bed  playes,  yet,  fhall  pafTe  vnexcepted  at,  heere, 
as  a  man  whofe  ludgement  fhewes  it  is  conllant,  and  hath 
(lood  flill,  thefe  fiue  and  twentie,  or  thirtie  yeeres.  Though 
it  be  an  Ignorance,  it  is  a  vertuous  and  flay'd  ignorance ; 

20  and  next  to  truth,  a  confirmed  errour  does  well  ;  fuch  a 
one  the  Author  knowes  where  to  finde  him. 


THE  INDVCTION.  9 

It  is  further  couenanted,  concluded  and  agreed,  that 
how  great  foeuer  the  expe6lation  bee,  no  perfon  here,  is 
to  expecSl  more  then  hee  knowes,  or  better  ware  then  a 
Fayre  will  affoord  :  neyther  to  looke  backe  to  the  fword 
and  buckler-age  of  Smithfield^  but  content  himfelfe  with  5 
the  prefent.  In  flead  of  a  little  Dauy^  to  take  toll  o'the 
Bawds,  the  Author  doth  promife  a  ftrutting  Horfe-courfer^ 
with  a  /^^r^-Drunkard,  two  or  three  to  attend  him,  in  as 
good  Equipage  as  you  would  wilh.  And  then  for  Kinde- 
heart,  the  Tooth-drawer,  a  fine  oyly  Fig-woman  with  her  10 
Tapjier^  to  bid  you  welcome,  and  a  confort  of  Roarers  for 
mufique.  A  wife  lujlice  of  Feace  meditant^  in  flead  of  a 
lugler^  with  an  Ape.  A  ciuill  Cutpurfe  fear  chant.  A  fweete 
Singer  of  new  Ballads  allurant :  and  as  frefh  an  Hypocrite^ 
as  euer  was  broach'd  rampant.  If  there  bee  neuer  a  Seruant-  15 
monjler  i'the  Fayre  ;  who  can  helpe  it  ?  he  fayes  ;  nor  a 
nefl  of  Antiques  ?  Hee  is  loth  to  make  Nature  afraid  in  his 
Flayes,  like  thofe  that  beget  Tales.  Tempejls,  and  fuch  like 
Drolleries,  to  mixe  his  head  with  other  mens  heeles,  let  the 
concupifence  of  ligges  and  Dances,  raigne  as  flrong  as  it  20 
will  amongfl  you  :  yet  if  the  Fuppets  will  pleafe  any  body, 
they  fhall  be  entreated  to  come  in. 

In  confideration  of  which,  it  is  finally  agreed,  by  the  fore- 
said hearers,  2MAfpe^ators,  that  they  neyther  in  themfelues 
conceale,  nor  fuffer  by  them  to  be  concealed  any  State-  25 
decipherer,  or  politique  Ficklocke  of  the  Scene,  fo  folemnly 
ridiculous,  as  to  fearch  out,  who  was  meant  by  the  Ginger- 
bread-woman, who  by  the  Hobby-horfe-man,  who  by  the 
Coflard-monger,  nay,  who  by  their  Wares.  Or  that  will 
pretend  to  affirme  (on  his  owne  infpired  ignorance^  what  30 
Mirror  of  Magiflrates  is  meant  by  the  lufiice,  what  great 
23     aforesaid  W^  G 


lo  THE  INDVCTION. 

Lady  by  the  Pigge-woman^  what  conceaVd  Statef-man,  by  the 
Seller  of  Moufe-trappes^  and  fo  of  the  reft.  But  that  fuch 
perfon,  or  perfons,  fo  found,  be  left  difcouered  to  the 
mercy  of  the  Author^  as  a  forfeiture  to  the  Stage ^  and  your 

e  laughter,  aforefaid. '  As  alfo,  fuch  as  fhall  fo  defperately, 
or  ambitioufly,  play  the  foole  by  his  place  aforefaid,  to 
challenge  the  Author  of  fcurrilitie,  becaufe  the  language 
fome  where  fauours  of  Smithfield^  the  Booth,  and  the  Pig- 
broath,  or  of  prophaneneffe,  becaufe  a  Mad-man  cryes,  God 

lo  quit  you ^  or  bleffe  you.  In  witneffe  whereof,  as  you  haue 
prepofteroufly  put  to  your  Scales  already  (which  is  your 
money)  you  will  now  adde  the  other  part  of  fuffrage,  your 
hands,  The  Play  (hall  prefently  begin.  And  though  the 
Fayre  be  not  kept  in  the  fame  Region,  that  fome  here, 

15  perhaps,  would  haue  it,  yet  thinke,  that  therein  the  Author 
hath  obferu'd  a  fpeciall  Decorum^  the  place  being  as  durty 
as  Smithfield^  and  as  ftinking  euery  whit. 

Howfoeuer^  hee  prayes  you  to  beleeue,  his  Ware  is  ftill 
the  fame,  elfe  you  will  make  him  iuftly  fufpe6l  that  hee 

20  that  is  fo  loth  to  looke  on  a  Baby^  or  an  Hobby-horfe.^  heere, 
would  bee  glad  to  take  vp  a  Commodity  of  them,  at  any 
laughter,  or  loffe,  in  another  place. 


BARTHOLMEVVc. 

FAYRE. 

Act.  I.      Scene.  I. 
LiTTLE-vviT.   ]  To  him  \  Win. 

A  Pretty  conceit,  and  worth  the  finding!  I  ha'fuch 
lucke  to  fpinne  out  thefe  fine  things  Hill,  and 
like  a  Silke-worme,  out  of  my  felfe.  Her's 
Mafler  Bartholomew  Cokes,  of  Harrow  o'th  hill,  i'th 
County  of  Middlefex,  Efquire,  takes  forth  his  Licence,  to  5 
marry  Miflreffe  Grace  Wel-borne  of  the  faid  place  and 
County:  and  when  do's  hee  take  it  foorth?  to  day!  the 
f oure  and  twentieth  of  Augufl !  Bartholmew  day !  Barthol- 
mew  vpon  Bartholmew\  there's  the  deuice!  who  would 
haue  mark'd  fuch  a  leap-frogge  chance  now  ?  A  very  leffe  10 
then  Ames-ace,  on  two  Dice!  well,  goe  thy  wayes  lohn 
Little-wit,  Pro6lor  John  Little-wit :  One  o'the  pretty  wits 
o' Pauls,  the  Little  wit  of  London  (fo  thou  art  call'd)  and 
fome  thing  befide.  When  a  quirk,  or  a  quiblin  do's  fcape 
thee,  and  thou  dofl  not  watch,  and  apprehend  it,  and  bring  15 
it  afore  the  Conftable  of  conceit:  (there  now,  I  fpeake 
quib  too)  let  'hem  carry  thee  out  o'the  Archdeacons  Court, 
into  his  Kitchin,  and  make  a  Lack  of  thee,  in  flead  of  a 
Lohn.     (There  I  am  againe  la!)     Win,  Good  morrow,  Win. 

G  makes  but  one  scene  of  Act  1. 
3    Her's]  Here's  i6g2,  1716,   W,  G  10   G  would  insert  little  between 

very  and  leffe. 


12  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

I  marry  Win  !  Now  you  looke  finely  indeed,  Win  !  this 
Cap  do's  conuince!  youl'd  not  ha'worne  it,  VVin^  nor  ha' 
had  it  veluet,  but  a  rough  countrey  Beauer,  with  a  copper- 
band,  like  the  Conney- skinne  woman  of  Budge -row} 
5  Sweete  VVin^  let  me  kiffe  it !  And.  her  fine  high  fhooes, 
like  the  Spanijh  Lady  !  Good  VVin^  goe  a  litle  I  would 
faine  fee  thee  pace,  pretty  Win  !  By  this  fine  Cap,  I 
could  neuer  leaue  kiffing  on't. 
[2]       Win.     Come,  indeede  la,  you  are  fuch  a  foole,  flill  ! 

10  LiTT.  No,  but  halfe  a  one,  Win^  you  are  the  tother 
halfe  :  man  and  wife  make  one  foole.  Win.  (Good  !)  Is 
there  the  Pro(5lor,  or  Do6lor  indeed,  i'the  Dioceffe,  that 
euer  had  the  fortune  to  win  him  fuch  a  Win !  (There  I  am 
againe  !)  I  doe  feele  conceits  comming  vpon  mee,  more 

15  then  I  am  able  to  turne  tongue  too.  A  poxe  o'thefe  pre- 
tenders, to  wit  !  your  Three  Cranes^  Miter,  and  Mermaid 
men  !  Not  a  come  of  true  fait,  nor  a  graine  of  right 
muflard  amongfl  them  all.  They  may  fland  for  places  or 
fo,  againe  the  next  Wit  fall,  and  pay  two  pence  in  a  quart 

20  more  for  their  Canary^  then  other  men.  But  gi'mee  the 
man,  can  flart  vp  a  lujlice  of  Wit  out  of  fix-fhillings  beare, 
and  giue  the  law  to  all  the  Poets^  and  Poet-fuckers  i'Towne, 
becaufe  they  are  the  Players  Goffips  ?  'Slid,  other  men 
haue  wiues  as  fine  as  the  Players,  and  as  well  drell.   Come 

25   hither,  Win. 


Act.  I.     Scene.  IJ. 
Win-wife.      Littlevvit.     Win. 

'\7"\7'Hy,  how  now.  Mafler  Little-wit\  meafuring  of  lips? 

or  molding  of  kifl"es  ?  which  is  it  ? 

LiTT.     Troth  I  am  a  little  taken  with  my  Wins  dreffing 

here  !     Do'fl  not  fine   Mafler  Win-wife  ?      How   doe  you 

30  apprehend,   Sir?      Shee   would  not  ha'worne  this  habit. 

17   nor]  not  i6g2,  17 16,   W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  13 

I  challenge  all  Cheapfide,  to  fhew  fuch  another:  Morefields^ 
Pi77ilico  path,  or  the  Exchange^  in  a  fommer  euening,  with 
a  Lace  to  boot  as  this  has.  Deare  Win^  let  Mafler  Win- 
wife  kiffe  you.  Hee  comes  a  wooing  to  our  mother  Win^ 
and  may  be  our  father  perhaps,  Win.  There's  no  harme  5 
in  him,  Win. 

WiN-w.     None  i'the  earth,  Mafler  Little-wit. 

LiTT.      I  enuy  no  man,  my  delicates,  Sir. 

WiN-w.     Alas,  you  ha'the  garden  where  they  grow  dill ! 
A  wife  heere  with  a  Strawbery-hx&2^\\\^  C^^ry-lips,  Apricot-   10 
cheekes,  and  a  foft  veluet  head,  like  a  Melicotton. 

LiTT.  Good  y'faith!  now  dulneffe  vpon  mee,  that  I 
had  not  that  before  him,  that  I  fhould  not  light  on't,  as 
well  as  he!     Veluet  head! 

WiN-w.     But  my  tafte,  Mafler  Little-wit^  tends  to  frui6l   15 
of  a  later  kinde:   the  fober  Matron,  your  wiues  mother. 

LiTT.  I !  wee  know  you  are  a  Suitor,  Sir.  Win^  and  I 
both,  wifh  you  well ;  by  this  Licence  here,  would  you  had 
her,  that  your  two  names  were  as  fafl  in  it,  as  here  are  a 
couple.  Win  would  faine  haue  a  fine  young  father  i'law,  20 
with  a  f ether:  that  her  mother  might  hood  it,  and  chaine  [3] 
it,  with  Miflris  Ouer-doo.  But,  you  doe  not  take  the  right 
courfe,  Mafler  Win-wife. 

WiN-w.     No  ?     Mafler  Litle-wit,  why  ? 

Lit.     You  are  not  madde  enough.  25 

WiN-w.     How  ?     Is  madneffe  a  right  courfe  ? 

Lit.  I  fay  nothing,  but  I  winke  vpon  Win.  You  haue 
a  friend,  one  (Mafler  Quarlous)  comes  here  fome  times  ? 

WiN-w,     Why  ?  he  makes  no  loue  to  her,  do's  he  ? 

Lit.     Not  a  tokenworth  that  euer  I  faw,   I  afTure  you,   30 
But— 

WiN-w.     What  ? 

Lit.  He  is  the  more  Mad-cap  o'the  two.  You  doe  not 
apprehend  mee. 

Win.     You  haue  a   hot  coale  i'your  mouth,   now,   you   35 
cannot  hold. 

16    later]  latter  i6g2y  17 16,  W 


14  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Lit.     Let  mee  out  with  it,  deare  Win. 
Win.     I'll  tell  him  my  felfe. 

Lit.     Doe,  and  take  all  the  thanks,  and  much  do  good 
thy  pretty  heart,  Win. 
5       Win.     Sir,  my  mother  has  had  her  natiuity-water  call 
lately  by  the  Cunning  men  in  Cow-lane,  and  they  ha'told 
her  her  fortune,  and  doe  enfure  her,  Ihce  Ihall  neuer  haue 
happy  houre;  vnleffe  fhee  marry  within  this  fen'night,  and 
when  it  is,  it  mud  be  a  Madde-man,  they  fay. 
lo       Lit.     I,  but  it  muft  be  a  Gentle-man  Mad-man. 
Win.     Yes,  fo  the  tother  man  of  More-fields  fayes. 
WiN-w.     But  do's  Ihee  beleeue  'hem  ? 
Lit.     Yes,  and  ha's  beene  at  Bedlem  twice  fmce,  euery 
day,  to  enquire  if  any  Gentleman  be  there,  or  to  come 
15   there,   mad! 

WiN-w.     Why,   this  is  a  confederacy,  a  meere  piece  of 
I         pra6lice  vpon  her,  by  thefe  Impojlors  ? 

Lit.     I  tell  her  fo ;  or  elfe  fay  I,  that  they  meane  fome 
young-Madcap-Gentleman  (for  the  diuell  can  equiuocate,  as 
20  well  as  a  Shop-keeper)  and  therefore  would  I  aduife  you, 
to  be  a  little  madder,  then  Mafter  Quarlous,  hereafter. 
Win.     Where  is  fhee  ?  flirring  yet  ? 

Lit.  Stirring!  Yes,  and  fludying  an  old  Elder,  come 
from  Banbury,  a  Suitor  that  puts  in  heere  at  meale-tyde, 
25  to  praife  the  painefull  brethren,  or  pray  that  the  fweet 
fingers  may  be  reflor'd  ;  Sayes  a  grace  as  long  as  his 
breath  lafls  him !  Some  time  the  fpirit  is  fo  flrong  with 
him,  it  gets  quite  out  of  him,  and  then  my  mother,  or 
Win,  are  faine  to  fetch  it  againe  with  Malmefey,  or  Aqua 
30   coelejlis. 

Win.     Yes  indeed,  we  haue  fuch  a  tedious  life  with  him 
for  his  dyet,  and  his  clothes  too,  he  breaks  his  buttons, 
and  cracks  feames  at  euery  faying  he  fobs  out. 
loH.     He  cannot  abide  my  Vocation,  he  fayes. 
35        Win.      No,  he  told  my  mother,    a  Pro^or  was  a  claw 
[4]  of  the  Beaji,  and  that  fhe  had  little  leffe  then  committed 
abomination  in  marrying  me  fo  as  fhe  ha's  done. 

17    Impoyiorsf\  Impostors.    i6g2,  17 16,  JV,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  15 

loH.  Euery  line  (he  fayes)  that  a  Pro^or  writes,  when 
it  comes  to  be  read  in  the  Bifliops  Court,  is  a  long  blacke 
hayre,  kemb'd  out  of  the  tayle  of  Anti-Chrijl, 

WiN-w.     When  came  this  Profelyte  ? 

loH.     Some  three  dayes  fince.  5 


Act.  I.     Scene.  IIJ. 

QVARLOVS,    lOHN,    VViN,    VVlN-VVIFE. 

/^  Sir,  ha  you  tane  foyle,  here  ?  it's  well,  a  man  may 
reach  you,  after  3.  houres  running,  yet  !  what  an 
vnmercifull  companion  art  thou,  to  quit  thy  lodging,  at 
fuch  vngentle  manly  houres  ?  None  but  a  fcatterd  couey 
of  Fidlers,  or  one  of  thefe  Rag-rakers  in  dung-hills,  or  10 
fome  Marrow-bone  man  at  mod,  would  haue  beene  vp, 
when  thou  wert  gone  abroad,  by  all  defcription.  I  pray 
thee  what  aylefl  thou,  thou  canfl  not  fleepe  ?  hafl  thou 
Thornes  i'thy  eye-lids,  or  Thiflles  i'thy  bed. 

WiN-w.     I  cannot  tell  :     It  feemes  you  had   neither  i'   15 
your  feet ;  that  tooke  this  paine  to  find  me. 

QvAR.     No,  and  I    had,    all    the     Lime-hounds     o'the 
City  Ihould  haue  drawne  afler  you,  by  the  fent  rather,  M"^ 
John  Little-wit !  God  faue  you,  Sir.    'Twas  a  hot  night  with 
fome  of  vs,  lafl  night,  John  :    (hal  we  pluck  a  hayre  o'the   20 
fame  Wolfe,  to  day,  Pro6tor  lo/in  ? 

loH.  Doe  you  remember  Mafler  Quar/ous,  what  wee 
difcourft  on,  lafl  night  ? 

QvAR.  Not  I,  lo/in  :  nothing  that  I  eyther  difcourfe  or 
doe,  at  thofe  times  I  forfeit  all  to  forgetful neffe.  25 

loH.  No  ?  not  concerning  JVin,  looke  you  :  there  Ihee 
is,  and  drefl  as  I  told  you  fhe  (hould  be:  harke  you  Sir, 
had  you  forgot  ? 

14     bed.]  Bed?  i6g2,  17/6,   JV,  G 
18     fent]  Scent  i6g2,  17 16,   IV,  G,  as  regularly  .  .  .  rather,]  rather. 
i6g2,  17 16,  W:  rather. —   G 

25     doe,]  do;  C  26     ^i«,]  Win?  1716,  W,  G 


i6  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

QvAR.     By  this  head,  Tie  beware  how  I  keepe  you  com- 
pany, lohn^  when  I  drunke,  and  you  haue  this   dangerous 
memory  !  that's  certaine. 
loH.     Why  Sir  ? 
5        QvAR.     Why  ?  we  were  all  a  little   flain'd   lafl  night, 
fprinckled  with  a  cup  or  two,  and  I  agreed  with  Pro6tor 
lohn  heere,  to  come  and  doe  fomewhat  with  Win  (I  know 
not  what  'twas)  to  day  ;  and  he  puts  mee  in  minde  on't, 
now  ;  hee  fayes  hee  was  comming  to  fetch  me :  before  Truth^ 
lo   if  you  haue  that  fearefull  quality,  lohn^  to  remember,  when 
you  are  fober,    lohti^  what  you  promife  drunke,  Iohn\    I 
fliall  take  heed  of  you,  John.     For  this  once,  I  am  content 
[5]   to  winke  at  you,   where's  your  wife  ?  come   hither    Win. 

{He  kijfeth  her. 
15        Win.     Why,  lohn  !  doe  you  fee  this,  lohn  ?  looke  you  ! 
helpe  me,  lohn. 

loH.  O  Win^  fie,  what  do  you  meane.  Win  !  Be  womanly, 
Win  ;  make  an  outcry  to  your  mother,  Win  ?  Mafler  Quar- 
lous  is  an  honefl  Gentleman,  and  our  worfhipfull  good 
20  friend.  Win  :  and  he  is  Mafler  Winwifes  friends,  too  :  And 
Mafler  Win-wife  comes  a  Suitor  to  your  mother  Win  ;  as  I 
told  you  before,  Win^  and  may  perhaps,  be  our  Father, 
Win^  they'll  do  you  no  harme,  Win^  they  are  both  our 
worfhipfull  good  friends.  Mafler  Quarlous  !  you  mufl 
25  know  M"".  Quarlous^  Win  ;  you  mufl  not  quarrel  1  with 
Mafler  Quarlous^  Win. 

QvAR.     No,  we'll  kiffe  againe  and  fall  in. 
loH.     Yes,  doe  good  Win. 
Win.     Y'faith  you  are  a  foole,  lohn. 
30        loH.     A  Foole-Iohn  fhe  calls  me,   doe  you  marke  that. 
Gentlemen  ?  pretty  littlewit  of  veluet  !  a  ioolt-Iohn  ! 
QvAR.     She  may  call  you  an  Apple-7<?/!«,  if  you  vfe  this. 
WiN-w.     Pray  thee  forbeare,  for  my  refpe(5l  fomewhat. 
QvAR.     Hoy-day!  how  refpecSliue  you  are  become  o'the 
35    fudden  !     I  feare  this  family  will  turne  you  reformed  too, 

2    I  drunke]  I  am  drunk  i6g2,  1716,   W,  G :  Cun.  suggests  I  drink. 

20     friends]  Friend  j6g2,  1716,   W,  G 

23      The  first  Win  followed  by  a  colon  idgSy  1716,   W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  17 

pray  you  come  about  againe.  Becaufe  fhe  is  in  poffibility 
to  be  your  daughter  in  law,  and  may  aske  you  bleffmg 
hereafter,  when  fhe  courts  it  to  Totnam  to  eat  creame. 
Well,  I  will  forbeare.  Sir,  but  i'faith,  would  thou  wouldfl 
leaue  thy  exercife  of  widdow-hunting  once!  this  drawing  5 
after  an  old  reuerend  Smocke  by  the  fplay-foote  :  There 
cannot  be  an  ancient  Tripe  or  Trillibub  i'the  Towne,  but 
thou  art  ftraight  nofmg  it,  and  'tis  a  fine  occupation  thou'lt 
confine  thy  felfe  to,  when  thou  ha'fl  got  one ;  fcrubbing  a 
piece  of  Buffe,  as  if  thou  hadfl  the  perpetuity  of  Pannyer-  10 
alley  to  flinke  in  ;  or  perhaps,  worfe,  currying  a  carkaffe, 
that  thou  hafl  bound  thy  felfe  to  aliue.  I'll  befworne,  fome 
of  them,  (that  thou  art,  or  hafl  beene  a  Suitor  to)  are  fo  old, 
as  no  chafl  or  marryed  pleafure  can  euer  become  'hem  : 
the  honell  Inflrument  of  procreation,  has  (forty  yeeres  15 
fince)  left  to  belong  to  'hem,  thou  mufl  vifit  'hem,  as  thou 
wouldfl  doe  a  Tonibe^  with  a  Torch,  or  three  hand-fulls  of 
Lincke,  flaming  hot,  and  fo  thou  maifl  hap  to  make  'hem 
feele  thee,  and  after,  come  to  inherit  according  to  thy  inches. 
A  fweet  courfe  for  a  man  to  wafle  the  brand  of  life  for,  to  20 
be  Hill  raking  himfelfe  a  fortune  in  an  old  womans  em- 
bers ;  we  (hall  ha'thee  after  thou  hall  beene  but  a  moneth 
marryed  to  one  of  'hem,  looke  like  the  quartane  ague,  and 
the  black  laundife  met  in  a  face,  and  walke  as  if  thou  had'fl 
borrow'd  legges  of  a  Spinner,  and  voyce  of  a  Cricket.  I  25 
would  endure  to  heare  fifteene  Sermons  aweeke  for  her, 
and  fuch  courfe,  and  lowd  one's,  as  fome  of  'hem  mufl  be; 
I  would  een  defire  of  Fate,  I  might  dwell  in  a  drumme, 
and  take  in  my  fuflenance,  with  an  old  broken  Tobacco- 
pipe  and  a  Straw.  Dofl  thou  euer  thinke  to  bring  thine  [6] 
eares  or  flomack,  to  the  patience  of  a  drie  grace,  as  long 
as  thy  Tablecloth  ?  and  droan'd  out  by  thy  fonne,  here, 
(that  might  be  thy  father;)  till  all  the  meat  o'thy  board 
has  forgot,  it  was  that  day  i'the  Kitchin  ?  Or  to  brooke 
the  noife  made,  in  a  queflion  of  Predejlination,  by  the  35 
good  labourers  and  painefull  eaters,   affembled  together, 

27    and  such  coarse  and  loud  ones  W,  G 


1 8  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

put  to  'hem  by  the  Matron,  your  Spoufe ;  who  moderates 
with  a  cup  of  wine,  euer  and  anone,  and  a  Sentence  out 
of  Knoxe  between  ?  or  the  perpetuall  fpitting,  before,  and 
after  a  fober  drawne  exhortation  of  fix  houres,  whofe  better 
5  part  was  the  hum-ha-hum  ?  Or  to  heare  prayers  groan'd 
out,  ouer  thy  iron-chefls,  as  if  they  were  charmes  to  breake 
'hem  ?  And  all  this  for  the  hope  of  two  ^/^y?/^-fpoones, 
to  fuffer  !  and  a  cup  to  eate  a  cawdle  in !  For  that  will  be 
thy  legacy.  She'll  ha'conuey'd  her  flate,  fafe  enough 
lo   from  thee,  an*  fhe  be  a  right  widdow. 

Win.,    Alaffe,  I  am  quite  oif  that  fent  now. 

QvAR.     How  fo  ? 

WiNw.      Put  off  by  a  Brother  of  Banbury^  one,  that,  they 
fay,  is  come  heere,  and  gouernes  all,  already. 
15        QvAR.     What  doe  you    call  him  ?       I   knew  diuers    of 
thofe  Banburians  when  I  was  in  Oxford. 

WiN-w.     Mafler  Little-wit  can  tell  vs. 

loH.     Sir  !  good  VVin^  goe  in,   and  if  Mafler  Barthol- 
mew  Cokes — his  man  come  for  the  Licence :   (the  little  old 
20   fellow)  let  him  fpeake  with  me  ;  what  fay  you.   Gentle- 
men ? 

WiN-w.     What  call  you  the  Reuerend  Elder  ?    you  told 
me  of  ?  your  Banbury -man. 

lOH.     Rabbi  Bufy,  Sir,  he  is  more  then  an  Elder ^  he  is  a 
25    Prophet^  Sir. 

QvAR.     O,  I  know  him  !  a  Baker,  is  he  not  ? 

loH.     Hee  was  a  Baker,  Sir,  but  hee  do's  dreame  now, 
and  fee  vifions,  hee  has  giuen  ouer  his  Trade. 

QvAR.     I  remember  that  too :  out  of  a  fcruple  hee  tooke, 

30  that   (in   fpic'd  confcience)   thofe   Cakes  hee  made,   were 

feru'd  to  Bridales^  May-poles^  Morriffes,  and  fuch  prophane 

feafls  and  meetings  ;  his  Chrillen-name  is  Zeale-of-the-land. 

loH.     Yes,  Sir,  Zeale-of-the-land  Buf ye. 

WiN-w.     How,  what  a  name's  there  ! 
35        loH.     O,  they  haue  all  fuch  names,  Sir;  he  was  Witneffe, 
for  Win^  here,   (they  will  not  be  call'd  God-fathers)  and 
nam'd   her    VVinne-the-fight,    you   thought  her   name  had 
beene  VVinnifred,  did  you  not  ? 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  19 

WiN-w.      I  did  indeed. 

loH.     Hee  would  ha'thought  himfelfe  a  ftarke  Repro- 
bate, if  it  had. 

QvAR.      I,   for  there  was   a  Blew-starch-woman    o'the 
name,  at  the  fame  time.     A  notable  hypocriticall  vermine     5 
it  is  ;  I  know  him.     One  that  flands  vpon  his  face,  more 
then  his  faith,  at  all  times  ;  Euer  in  feditious  motion,  and  [7] 
reprouing  for  vaine-glory  :  of  a  moll  lunatique  confcience, 
and  fplene,  and  affe6ls  the  violence  of  Singularity  in  all  he 
do's:   (He  has  vndone  a  Grocer  here,  in  Newgate-market,    lo 
that  broke  with  him,  trufled  him  with  Currans,  as  errant 
a  Zeale  as  he,  that's  by  the  way:  by  his  profeflion,  hee  will 
euer  be  i'the  flate  of  Innocence,  though;  and  child-hood; 
derides  all  Antiquity,  defies  any  other  Z^^r/z/;^^,  then  Infpir- 
ation\  and  what  difcretion  foeuer,  yeeres  fhould  afford  him,    15 
it  is  all  preuented  in  his  Originall  ignorance^  ha'not  to  doe 
with  him :  for  hee  is  a  fellow  of  a  mofl  arrogant,  and  in- 
uincible  dulneffe,  I  affure  you ;  who  is  this  ? 


Act.  I.      ScEENE.  IIIJ. 
Waspe.    Iohn.    Win-wife.     Qvarlovs. 

"DY  your  leaue.   Gentlemen,  with  all  my  heart  to  you: 

and  god  you  good  morrow;  M^  Little-wit,   my  bufi-   20 
neffe  is  to  you.     Is  this  Licence  ready  ? 

loH.     Heere,  I  ha'it  for  you,  in  my  hand,  Mafler  Humph- 
rey. 

Was.     That's  well,  nay,  neuer  open,  or  read  it  to  me, 
it's  labour  in  vaine,  you  know.     I  am  no  Clearke,  I  fcorne   25 
to  be  fau'd  by  my  booke,   i'faith  I'll  hang  firfl;  fold  it  vp 
o'  your  word  and  gi'it  mee;  what  mufl  you  ha'for't  ? 

II     arrant  G,  as  regularly 
20     god  you]  God  give  you  i6g2,  jyib  :  give  you  IV 


20  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

loH.     We'll  talke  of  that  anon,  Mailer  Humphrey. 
Was.      Now,  or  not  at  all,  good  M"*  Proflor^  I  am  for  no 
anon's,  I  affure  you. 

loH.     Sweet  VVin^  bid  Salomon  fend  mee  the  little  blacke 
5   boxe  within,  in  my  fludy. 

Was.  I,  quickly,  good  MifLreffe,  I  pray  you:  for  I 
haue  both  egges  o'the  Spit,  and  yron  i'the  fire,  fay,  what 
you  mufl  haue,  good  M"^  Little-wit. 

loH.     Why,  you  know  the  price,  M^  Numps. 

lo       Was.     I  know  ?     I  know   nothing.      I,    what    tell  you 

mee  of  knowing  ?  (now  I  am  in  hafl)  Sir,  I  do  not  know, 

and  I  will  not  know,  and  I  fcorne  to  know,  and  yet,  (now 

I  think  o'nt)  I  will,  and  do  know,  as  well  as  another;  you 

must  haue  a  Marke  for  your  thing  here,  and  eight  pence  for 

15   the   boxe;    I    could   ha'fau'd   two  pence    i'that,    an'   I    had 

bought  it  my  felfe,  but  heere's  foureteene  Jliillings  for  you. 

Good  Lord!  how  long  your  little  wife  flaies!  pray  God, 

Salomon^  your  Gierke,  be  not  looking  i'the  wrong  boxe, 

M'^  Proaor. 

20        loH.      Good  i'faith!  no,  I  warrant  you,  Salomon  is  wifer 

then  fo.  Sir. 
[8]  Was.  Fie,  fie,  fie,  by  your  leaue  Mafler  Little-wit^  this 
is  fcuruy,  idle,  foolifh  and  abominable,  with  all  my  heart; 
I  doe  not  like  it. 
25  WiN-w.  Doe  you  heare?  lacke  Little-wit^  what  bufineffe 
do's  thy  pretty  head  thinke,  this  fellow  may  haue,  that  he 
keepes  fuch  a  coyle  with  ? 

QvAR.      More  then  buying  of   ginger-bread  i'the  Cloy- 
Jier^  here,  (for  that  wee  allow  him)  or  a  guilt  pouch  i'the 
30   Fayrel 

loH.  Mafler  Quarlous,  doe  not  miflake  him:  he  is  his 
Mailers  both-hands,  I  affure  you. 

QvAR.  What?  to  pull  on  his  boots,  a  mornings,  or  his 
llockings,  do's  hee  ? 
35  loH.  Sir,  if  you  haue  a  minde  to  mocke  him,  mocke 
him  foftly,  and  looke  to'ther  way:  for  if  hee  apprehend 
you  flout  him,  once,  he  will  flie  at  you  prefently.  A  ter- 
rible tellie  old  fellow,  and  his  name  is  Wafpe  too. 


BaRTHOLMEVV    FaYRE.  21 

QvAR.     Pretty  I?ife^  !  make  much  on  him. 

Was.  a  plague  o'this  box,  and  the  poxe  too,  and  on 
him  that  made  it,  and  her  that  went  for't,  and  all  that 
Ihould  ha'fought  it,  fent  it,  or  brought  it!  doe  you  fee,  Sir? 

loH.     Nay,  good  M^  Wafpe.  5 

Was.  Good  Mafler  Hornet^  turd  i'your  teeth,  hold  you 
your  tongue;  doe  not  I  know  you?  your  father  was  a 
Pothecary^  and  fold  gliflers,  more  then  hee  gaue,  I  wuffe : 
and  turd  i'your  little  wiues  teeth  too  (heere  fhe  comes) 
'twill  make  her  fpit  as  fine  as  Ihe  is,  for  all  her  veluet-  10 
cuflerd  on  her  head,  Sir. 

loH.     O !  be  ciuill  Mafler  Numpes. 

Was.  Why,  fay  I  haue  a  humour  not  to  be  ciuill ;  how 
then  ?  who  fhall  compell  me  ?  you  ? 

loH.     Here  is  the  boxe,  now.  15 

Was.  Why  a  pox  o'your  boxe,  once  againe:  let  your 
little  wife  Hale  in  it,  and  fhe  will.  Sir,  I  would  haue  you 
to  vnderfland,  and  thefe  Gentlemen  too,  if  they  pleafe — 

WiN-w.     With  all  our  hearts.  Sir. 

Was.     That  I  haue  a  charge.      Gentlemen.  20 

loH.     They  doe  apprehend,  Sir. 

Was.  Pardon  me,  Sir,  neither  they  nor  you,  can  appre- 
hend mee,  yet.  (you  are  an  Affe)  I  haue  a  young  Mafler, 
hee  is  now  vpon  his  making  and  marring;  the  whole  care 
of  his  well  doing,  is  now  mine.  His  foolifh  fchole-  25 
maflers  haue  done  nothing,  but  runne  vp  and  downe  the 
Countrey  with  him,  to  beg  puddings,  and  cake-bread,  of 
his  tennants,  and  almost  fpoyled  him,  he  has  learn'd 
nothing,  but  to  fing  catches^  and  repeat  rattle  bladder  rattle^ 
and  O,  Madge.  I  dare  not  let  him  walke  alone,  for  feare  30 
of  learning  of  vile  tunes,  which  hee  will  fing  at  fupper, 
and  in  the  fermon-times  !  if  hee  meete  but  a  Carman  i'the 
flreete,  and  I  finde  him  not  talke  to  keepe  him  off  on  him, 
hee  will  whiflle  him,  and  all  his  tunes  ouer,  at  night  in 
his  fleepe!  he  has  a  head  full  of  Bees!  I  am' fain e  now  [9] 
(for  this  little  time  I  am  abfent)  to  leaue  him  in  charge 
with  a  Gentlewoman ;  'Tis  true,  fhee  is  A  lujlice  of  Peace 


2  2  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

his  wife,  and  a  Gentlewoman  o'the  hood,  and  his  naturall 
fifler:  But  what  may  happen,  vnder  a  womans  gouern- 
ment,  there's  the  doubt.  Gentlemen,  you  doe  not  know 
him :  hee  is  another  manner  of  peece  then  you  think  for ! 
5  but  nineteen  yeere  old,  and  yet  hee  is  taller  then  either  of 
you,  by  the  head,  God  bleffe  him. 

QvAR.     Well,  mee  thinkes,  this  is  a  fine  fellow! 

WiN-w.     He  has  made  his  Mafler  a  finer  by  this  defcrip- 
tion,  I  fiiould  thinke. 
lo       QvAR.     'Faith,    much   about    one,    it's   croffe   and  pile^ 
whether  for  a  new  farthing. 

Was.     I'll  tell  you  Gentlemen — 

loH.     Will't  pleafe  you  drinke,  Mafler  VVafpel 

Was.     Why,  I  ha'not  talk't  fo  long  to  be  drie.  Sir,  you 
15   fee  no  dufl  or  cobwebs  come  out  o'my  mouth:  doe  you  ? 
you'ld  ha'me  gone,  would  you  ? 

loH.     No,  but  you  were  in  hafl  e'en  now,  M""  Numpes. 

Was.     What  an'  I  were  ?  fo   I  am  Hill,  and  yet  I  will 
llay  too ;  meddle  you  with  your  match,  your  Win^  there, 
20  flie  has  as  little   wit,   as  her  husband  it  feemes:  I  haue 
others  to  talke  to. 

loH.     She's  my  match  indeede,   and  as  little  wit  as  I, 
Good! 

Was.     We  ha'bin  but  a  day  and  a  halfe  in  towne,  Gen- 

25   tlemen,    'tis   true;    and   yefler   day   i'the   afternoone,    we 

walk'd  London,  to  fhew  the  City  to  the  Gentlewoman,   he 

ftiall  marry,  Miflreffe  Grace;  but,  afore  I  will  endure  fuch 

another  halfe  day,  with  him,  I'll  be  drawne  with  a  good 

Gib-cat,   through  the  great  pond  at  home,   as  his  vncle 

30  Hodge  was!  why,  we  could  not  meet  that  heathen  thing,  all 

day,   but  flayd  him:    he  would  name  you  all  the  Signes 

ouer,  as  hee  went,  aloud:  and  where  he  fpi'd  a  Fat-rat,  or 

a  Monkey,  there  hee  was  pitch'd,  with  all  the  littl-long- 

coats  about  him,  male  and  female ;  no  getting  him  away ! 

35   I  thought  he  would  ha'runne  madde  o'the  blacke  boy  in 

Bucklers-bury,  that  takes  the  fcury,  roguy  tobacco,  there. 

5     years  i6g2,  1716,   W,  G  30     all  the  day  W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  23 

loH.  You  fay  true,  yi2Sit,x  Nunipes\  there's  fuch  a  one 
indeed. 

Was.  It's  no  matter,  whether  there  be,  or  no,  what's 
that  to  you  ? 

QvAR.     He  will  not  allow  of  John's  reading  at  any  hand,     5 


Act.  I.      Scene.  V.  [lo] 

Cokes.     Miftris  Over-doo.     Waspe.     Grace. 
QvARLOVs.     Win-wife.     Iohn.     Win. 


/^  Numpes  !  are  you  here  Numpes  ?  looke  where  I  am, 
^^^  Numpes  !  and  Miflris  Grace,  too  !  nay,  doe  not  looke 
angerly,  Numpes  :  my  Sifter  is  heere,  and  all,  I  doe  not 
come  without  her. 

Was.     What,  the  mifchiefe,  doe  you  come  with  her  ?  or   10 
fhee  with  you  ? 

CoK.     We  came  all  to  feeke  you,  Numpes. 

Was.     To  feeke  mee  ?   why,  did  you  all  thinke  I  was 
loft  ?  or  runne  away  with  your  foureteene  {hillings  worth 
of  fmall  ware,  here  ?  or  that  I  had  chang'd  it  i'the  Fayre,    15 
for  hobby-horfes  ?     S'pretious — to  feeke  me! 

Over.  Nay,  good  M"^  Numpes,  doe  you  fhew  difcretion, 
though  he  bee  exoribitant,  (as  M""  Ouer-doo  faies,)  and't  be 
but  for  conferuation  of  \)i\^  peace. 

Was.  Mary  gip,  goody  ^^-lujlice,  Miftris  French-hood  !  20 
turd  i'your  teeth  ;  and  turd  i'your  French-hoods  teeth,  too, 
to  doe  you  feruice,  doe  you  fee  ?  muft  you  quote  your 
Adam  to  me  !  you  thinke,  you  are  Madam  Regent  ftill, 
Miftris  Ouer-doo  ;  when  I  am  in  place  ?  no  fuch  matter,  I 
aifure  you,  your  raigne  is  out,  when  I  am  in.  Dame.  25 

Over.  I  am  content  to  be  in  abeyance,  Sir,  and  be 
gouern'd  by  you  ;  fo  ftiould  hee  too,  if  he  did  well  ;  but 
'twill  be  expected,  you  fhould  alfo  gouerne  your  paffions. 


24  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Was.  Will't  fo  forfooth  ?  good  Lord  !  how  fharpe  you 
are  !  with  being  at  Beflem  yellerday  ?  VVhetJlon  has  fet  an 
edge  vpon  you,  has  hee  ? 

Over.     Nay,   if  you   know  not  what  belongs  to  your 
5   dignity  :  I  doe,  yet,  to  mine. 

Was.     Very  well,  then. 

CoK.  Is  this -the  Licence,  Numpes'>  for  Loues  fake,  let 
me  fee't.  •  I  neuer  faw  a  Licence. 

Was.     Did  you  not  fo  ?  why,  you  fhall  not  fee't,  then. 
»  lo       CoK.     An'  you  loue  mee,  good  Numpes. 

Was.  Sir,  I  loue  you,  and  yet  I  do  not  loue  you,  i' 
thefe  fooleries,  fet  your  heart  at  refl  ;  there's  nothing  in't, 
but  hard  words  :  and  what  would  you  fee't  for  ? 

CoK.     I  would  fee   the  length    and   the   breadth    on't, 
15   that's  all  ;  and  I  will  fee't  now,  fo  I  will. 

Was.     You  fha'not  fee  it,  heere. 

CoK.  Then  I'll  fee't  at  home,  and  I'll  looke  vpo'the  cafe 
heere. 

Was.  Why,  doe  fo,  a  man  mufl  giue  way  to  him  a  little 
[11]  in  trifles  :  Gentlemen.  Thefe  are  errors,  difeafes  of  youth : 
which  he  will  mend,  when  he  comes  to  iudgement,  and 
knowledge  of  matters.  I  pray  you  conceiue  fo,  and  I 
thanke  you.  And  I  pray  you  pardon  him,  and  I  thanke 
you  againe. 
25        QvAR.     Well,  this  dry-nurfe^  I  fay  flill,  is  a  delicate  man. 

WiN-w.  And  I,  am,  for  the  Coffet,  his  charge  !  Did 
you  euer  fee  a  fellowes  face  more  accufe  him  for  an  Affe  ? 

QvAR.     Accufe  him  ?  it  confeffes  him  one  without  accuf- 
ing.     What  pitty  'tis  yonder  wench  fhould  marry  fuch  a 
30   Cokes  ? 

WiN-w.     'Tis  true. 

QvAR.  Shee  feemes  to  be  difcreete,  and  as  fober  as  fhee 
is  handfome. 

WiN-w.     I,   and  if  you    marke    her,    what   a  reflrain'd 
35   fcorne  flie  calls  vpon  all  his  behauiour,  and  fpeeches  ? 

CoK.  Well,  Numpes^  I  am  now  for  another  piece  of 
bufineffe  more,  the  Fayre^  Numpes^  and  then — 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  25 

Was.     Bleffe  me  !    deliuer  me,  helpe,   hold  mee  !    the 
Fayre ! 

CoK.     Nay,   neuer  fidge  vp  and   downe,   Numpes^  and 
vexe  it  felfe.       I  am    refolute   Bartholmew^   in    this  ;    Il'e    . 
make  no  fuite  on't  to  you  ;    'twas  all  the  end  of  my  iour-     5 
ney,  indeed,  to  (hew  Miflris  Grace  my  Fayre:     I  call't  my 
Fayre^   because   of  Bartholmew.    you    know    my  name  is 
Bartholmew,  and  Barthohftew  Fayre. 

loH.     That  was  mine  afore,  Gentlemen  :  this  morning. 
I  had  that  i'faith,  vpon  his  Licence,  beleeue  me,  there  he   10 
comes,  after  me. 

QvAR.      Come,  John,  this  ambitious  wit  of  yours,    (I  am 
afraid)  will  doe  you  no  good  i'the  end. 

loH.     No  ?     why  Sir  ? 

QvAR.     You  grow  fo  infolent  with  it,  and  ouerdoing,    15 
John  :  that  if  you  looke  not  to  it,  and  tie  it  vp,   it  will 
bring  you  to  fome  obfcure  place  in  time,  and  there  'twill 
leaue  you. 

WiN-w.       Doe  not  trufl  it   too    much,   John,   be   more 
fparing,  and  vfe  it,  but  now  and  then  ;  a  wit  is  a  danger-   20 
ous  thing,  in  this  age  ;  doe  not  ouer  buy  it. 

loH.     Thinke  you  fo.  Gentlemen  ?     I'll  take  heed  on't, 
hereafter. 

Win.     Yes,  doe  John. 

CoK.     A  prety  little  foule,  this  fame  Miflris  Little-wit !   25 
would  I  might  marry  her. 

Gra.     So  would  I,  or  any  body  elfe,  fo  I  might  fcape 
you, 

CoK.     Numps^  I  will  fee  it,  Numpes^  'tis  decreed  :    neuer 
be  melancholy  for  the  matter.  30 

Was.     Why,  fee  it.  Sir,  fee  it,  doe  fee  it  !    who  hinders 
you  ?  why  doe  you  not  goe  fee  it  ?     'Slid  fee  it. 

CoK.     The  Fayre^  Numps^  the  Fayre. 

Was.     Would  the  Fayre  and  all  the  Drums,  and  Rattles 
in't,  were  i'your  belly  for  mee  :   they  are  already  i'your  35 
braine  :  he  that  had  the  meanes  to  trauell  you  head,  now, 
36    your  head  i6g2,  i'/i6,   W,  G 


26  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

ftiould  meet  finer  fights  then  any  are  i'the  Fayre  ;  and 
[6]  make  a  finer  voyage  on't  ;  to  fee  it  all  hung  with  cockle- 
fhels,  pebbles,  fine  wheat-flrawes,  and  here  and  there  a 
chicken's  feather,  and  a  cob-web. 
5  QvAR.  Goodfaith,  hee  lookes,  me  thinkes  an'  you 
marke  him,  like  one  that  were  made  to  catch  flies,  with 
his  Sir  Cram'on-legs. 

WiN-w.     And  his  JVumpes,  to  flap  'hem  away. 
Was.     God,  bew'you.  Sir,  there's  your  Bee  in  a  box,  and 
lo   much  good  doo't,  you. 

CoK.     Why,  your  friend,  and  Bartholmew  ;  an'  you  be 
fo  contumacious. 

QvAR.     What  meane  you,  Numpes  ? 
Was.     I'll  not  be  guilty,  I,  Gentlemen. 
15        Over.     You  will  not  let  him  goe.  Brother^   and  loofe 
him  ? 

CoK.     Who  can  hold  that  will    away  ?     I   had   rather 
loofe  him  then  the  Fayre,  I  wuffe. 

Was.     You  doe  not  know  the  inconuenience.  Gentlemen, 
20  you  perfwade  to:  nor  what  trouble  I  haue  with  him  in 
thefe  humours.     If  he  goe  to  the  Fayre,   he  will  buy  of 
euery  thing,  to  a  Baby  there;  and  houfhold-lluffe  for  that 
too.      If  a  legge  or  an  arme  on  him  did  not  grow  on,  hee 
would  lofe  it  i'the  prefl"e.     Pray  heauen  I  bring  him   off 
25   with  one  fl.one!     And  then   he   is   fuch  a   Rauener  after 
fruite!   you  will  not  beleeue  what  a  coyle    I  had,  t'other 
day,  to  compound  a  bufinefl"e  betweene  a  Katerne-'pQdiYQ- 
woman,  and  him,  about  fnatching!   'tis  intolerable.  Gen- 
tlemen. 
30       WiN-w.     O !  but  you  mufl  not  leaue  him,  now,  to  thefe 
hazards,  Numpes. 

Was.     Nay,  hee  knowes  too  well,  I  will  not  leaue  him, 

and  that  makes  him  prefume:  well.  Sir,  will  you  goe  now? 

if   you  haue  fuch  an  itch  i'your  feete,  to  foote  it  to  the 

35    Fayre,  why  doe  you  fl-op,  am  I   your  Tarriars?  goe,  will 

you  goe  ?     Sir,  why  doe  you  not  goe  ? 

2     [6]  error  for  [12]  15     loofe]  lose  j6g2,  17 16,   W,  G 

18     loofe]  lose  i6g2,  1716,   W,  G    35     I  [o']  your  tarriers  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  27 

CoK.  O  Numps\  haue  I  brought  you  about?  come 
Miflreffe  Grace,  and  Sifter,  I  am  refolute  Bait,  i'faith,  ftill. 

Gra.  Truely,  I  haue  no  fuch  fancy  to  th.Q  Fayre  \  nor 
ambition  to  fee  it ;  there's  none  goes  thither  of  any  quality 
or  fafhion.  5 

CoK.  O  Lord,  Sir!  you  (hall  pardon  me,  Miftris  Grace, 
we  are  inow  of  our  felues  to  make  it  a  fafhion:  and  for 
qualities,  let  Nunips  alone,  he'l  finde  qualities. 

QvAR.  What  a  Rogue  in  apprehenfion  is  this !  to  vnder- 
ftand  her  language  no  better.  10 

WiN-w.  I,  and  offer  to  marry  to  her?  well,  I  will 
leaue  the  chafe  of  my  widdow,  for  to  day,  and  directly  to 
the  Fayre.  Thefe  flies  cannot,  this  hot  feafon,  but  engen- 
der vs  excellent  creeping  fport. 

QvAR.     A  man  that  has  but  a  fpoone  full  of  braine,    15 
would  think  fo.     Farewell,  lohfi. 

loH.     Win,  you  fee,  'tis  in  fafhion,  to  goe  to  the  Fayre, 
Win:  we  muft  to  the  Fayre  too,  you,  and  I,  Win.     I  haue 
an  affaire  i'the   Fayre,  Win,  a  Puppet-play  of  mine  owne 
making,  fay  nothing,  that  I  writ  for  the  motion  man,  which   [3] 
you  muft  fee,  Win. 

Win.  I  would  I  might  John,  but  my  mother  will  neuer 
confent  to  fuch  2i prophane  motion-,  fhe  will  call  it. 

loH.  Tut,  we'll  haue  a  deuice,  a  dainty  one;  (Now, 
Wit,  helpe  at  a  pinch,  good  Wit  come,  come,  good  Wit,  25 
and't  be  thy  will.)  I  haue  it,  Wifi,  I  haue  it  'ifaith,  and 
'tis  a  fine  one.  Win,  long  to  eate  of  a  Pigge,  fweet  Wi7i, 
i'the  Fayre-,  doe  you  fee?  i'the  heart  o'the  Fayre-,  not  at 
Pye-Corner.  Your  mother  will  doe  any  thing.  Win,  to  fat- 
isfie  your  longing,  you  know,  pray  thee  long,  prefently,  30 
and  be  ficke  o'the  fudden,  good  Win.  I'll  goe  in  and  tell 
her,  cut  thy  lace  i'the  meane  time,  and  play  the  Hypocrite, 
fweet  Win. 

Win.      No,  I'll  not  make  me  vnready  for  it.      I  can  be 
Hypocrite  enough,  though  I  were  neuer  fo  ftraight  lac'd.        35 
II     to  marry  her  i-^/^,    W,  G  20     ^J^  error  for  {i-^l 


28  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

loH.  You  fay  true,  you  haue  bin  bred  i'the  family,  and 
brought  vp  to  't.  Our  mother  is  a  mofl  ele(5l  Hypocrite^  and 
has  maintain'd  us  all  this  feuen  yeere  with  it,  like  Gentle- 
folkes. 

Win.  I,  Let  her  alone,  lohn^  fhe  is  not  a  wife  wilfull 
widdow  for  nothing,  nor  a  fan6lified  fifler  for  a  fong. 
And  let  me  alone  too,  I  ha'fomewhat  o'the  mother  in  me, 
you  fhall  fee,  fetch  her,  fetch  her,  ah,  ah. 


^fK^  Act.   I.      Scene.   VI. 

\^  C_  PVRECRAFT.       VVlN.        lOHN.       BvSY. 

Salomon. 

"^TOw,  the  blaze  of  the  beauteous  difcipline,  fright  away 
lo  this  euill  from   our  houfe!    how  now  Win-the- fight ^ 

Child:  how  do  you  ?     Sweet  child,  fpeake  to  me. 
Win.     Yes,  forfooth. 

PvR.     Looke  vp,  fweet  Win-the-fight,   and  fuffer  not  the 

enemy  to  enter  you  at  this   doore,    remember  that  your 

15   education  has  bin  with  the  purefl,  what  polluted  one  was 

it,  that  nam'd  firll  the  vncleane  beafl,  Pigge,  to  you,  Child  ? 

Win.     (Vh,  vh.) 

loH.     Not  I,  o'my  fmcerity,  mother:    fhe  long'd  aboue 
three  houres,   ere  (he  would  let  me  know  it;  who  was  it 
20    Win  ? 

Win.     a  prophane  blacke  thing  with  a  beard,  John. 

PvR.     O !  refill  it,  Win-the-fight,   it  is  the  Tempter,   the 

wicked  Tempter,  you  may  know  it  by  the  flefhly  motion  of 

Pig,  be  flrong  againfl  it,   and  it's  foule  temptations,   in 

25   thefe  affaults,  whereby  it  broacheth  flefh  and  blood,  as  it 

were,   on   the  weaker  fide,  and  pray  againfl   it's  carnall 

prouocations,  good  child,  fweet  child,  pray. 

[14]        loH.     Good  mother,  I  pray  you ;  that  fhe  may  eate  fome 

Pigge,  and  her  belly  full,  too ;  and  doe  not  you  cafl  away 


Bartholmevv  Fayr^T"^    '  29 


your  owne  child,  and  perhaps  one  of  mine,  with  your  tale 
of  the  Tempter:  how  doe  you,   Win  ?     Are  you  not  ficke  ? 
Win.     Yes,  a  great  deale,  John,  (vh,  vh.) 
PvR.     What  fhall  we  doe?  call  our  zealous  brother ^f/^y 
hither,  for  his  faithfuU  fortification  in  this  charge  of  the     5 
aduerfary;  child,  my  deare  childe,   you  fhall  eate   Pigge, 
be  comforted,  my  fweet  child. 
Win.     I,  but  i'the  Fayre^  mother. 

PvR.      I  meane  i'the  Fayre^  if  it  can  be  any  way  made, 
or  found  lawf ull ;  where  is  our  brother  Bufy  ?     Will  hee   10 
not  come  ?  looke  vp,  child. 

loH.  Prefently,  mother,  as  foone  as  he  has  cleanfd  his 
beard.  I  found  him,  fall  by  the  teeth,  i'the  cold  Turkey- 
pye,  i'the  cupbord,  with  a  great  white  loafe  on  his  left 
hand,  and  a  glaffe  of  Malmefey  on  his  right.  15 

PvR.     Slander  not  the  Brethren^  wicked  one. 
loH.      Here  hee  is,  now,  purified.  Mother. 
PvR.     0\iXo\\i^x  Bufy\  your  helpe  heere  to  edifie,  and 
raife  vs  vp  in  a  fcruple ;  my  daughter  Win-the-fight  is  vifited 
with  a  naturall  difeafe  of  women;    call'd,  A  longing  to  20 
eate  Pigge. 

loH.      I  Sir,  a  Bartholmew-T^'iggt:  and  in  the  Fayre. 
PvR.     And  I  would  be  fatisfied  from  you,  Religioufly- 
wife.   whether  a  widdow  of  the  fan6lified  affembly,   or  a 
widdowes  daughter,   may  commit  the  a6t,  without  offence  25 
to  the  weaker  fiflers. 

Bvs.  Verily,  for  the  difeafe  of  longing,  it  is  a  difeafe, 
a  carnall  difeafe,  or  appetite,  incident  to  women :  and  as 
it  is  carnall,  and  incident,  it  is  naturall,  very  naturall: 
Now  Pigge,  it  is  a  meat,  and  a  meat  that  is  nourilhing,  30 
and  may  be  long'd  for,  and  fo  confequently  eaten ;  it  may 
be  eaten ;  very  exceeding  well  eaten :  but  in  the  Fayre^ 
and  as  a  Bartholmew-^'ig,  it  cannot  be  eaten,  for  the  very 
calling  it  a  Bartholmew-^iggQ^  and  to  eat  it  fo,  is  a  fpice  of 
Idolatry,  and  you  make  the  Fayre,  no  better  then  one  of  35 
the  high  Places.  This  I  take  it,  is  the  flate  of  the  queflion. 
A  high  place. 

2     how  do  you  do,  Win  W,  G  ><r^6" 


UNIVEPSITV 


30  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

♦  loH.     I,    but   in    Hate   of   neceffity:    Place   fhould   giue 

place,  M'  Pufy,  (I  have  a  conceit  left,  yet.) 

PvR.     Good  Brother,  Zeale-of-the-land,  thinke  to  make 
it  as  lawfuU  as  you  can. 
5        loH.     Yes  Sir,  and  as  foone  as  you  can:  for  it  mufl  be 
Sir;  you  fee  the  danger  my  little  wife  is  in.  Sir. 

PvR.     Truely,  I  doe  loue  my  child  dearely,  and  I  would 
not  haue  her  mifcarry,  or  hazard  her  firfl  fruites,  if  it  might 
be  otherwife. 
lo       Bvs.     Surely,  it  may  be  otherwife,  but  it  is  fubie(5l,  to 
conflru(5tion,   fubie6t,  and  hath  a  face  of  offence,  with  the 
[15]  weake,  a  great  face,  a  foule  face,  but  that  face  may  haue 
a  vaile  put  ouer  it,  and  be  fhaddowed,  as  it  were,  it  may  be 
eaten,  and  in  the  Fayre,  I  take  it,  in  a  Booth,  the  tents  of 
15   the  wicked:   the  place  is  not   much,   not  very  much,  we 
may  be  religious  in  midfl  of  the  prophane,  fo  it  be  eaten 
with  a  reformed  mouth,   with  fobriety,   and  humblenelTe; 
not*  gorg'd  in  with  gluttony,   or  greedineffe;    there's  the 
feare:   for,   fliould  Ihe  goe  there,   as  taking  pride  in  the 
20  place,  or  delight  in  the  vncleane  dreffmg,  to  feed  the  van- 
ity of  the  eye,   or  the  lufl  of  the  palat,  it  were  not  well, 
it  were  not  fit,  it  were  abominable,  and  not  good. 

loH.     Nay,   I  knew  that  afore,   and  told  her  on't,   but 
courage.   Win,  we'll  be  humble  enough;    we'll  feeke  out 
25   the  homeliefl   Booth    i'the   Fayre,   that's  certaine,   rather 
then  faile,  wee'll  eate  it  o'the  ground. 

PvR.      I,  and  I'll  goe  with  you  my  felfe,   Win-the- fight, 
and  my  brother,  Zeale-of-the-land,  fhall  goe  with  vs  too,  for 
our  better  confolation. 
30       Win.     Vh,  vh. 

loH.  I,  and  Salomon  too,  Win,  (the  more  the  merrier) 
Win,  we'll  leaue  Rabby  Bufy  in  a  Booth.  Salomon,  my 
cloake. 

Sal.     Here,  Sir. 
35        Bvs.     In  the  way  of  comfort  to  the  weake,  I  will  goe, 
and  eat.      I  will  eate  exceedingly,   and  prophefie;    there 

13     it  were,]  it  were  ;  lyib,   fV,  G  16     in  midfl]  in  the  midst  W,  G 

21     or  the  lufl]  or  lust  lyib,  W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  31 

may  be  a  good  vfe  made  of  it,  too,  now  I  thinke  on't:  by 
the  publike  eating  of  Svvines  flelh,  to  profeffe  our  hate,  and 
loathing  of  ludaifme^  whereof  the  brethren  ftand  taxed. 
I  will  therefore  eate,  yea,  I  will  eate  exceedingly. 

lOH.  Good,  i'faith,  I  will  eate  heartily  too,  because  I 
will  be  no  lew^  I  could  neuer  away  with  that  fliffenecked 
generation:  and  truely,  I  hope  my  little  one  will  be  like 
me,  that  cries  for  Pigge  fo,  i'the  mothers  belly. 

Bvs.  Very  likely,  exceeding  likely,  very  exceeding 
likely. 


Act.  II.      Scene.  I.  [16] 

IVSTICE    OVERDOO. 

WEll,  in  luflice  name,  and  the  Kings;  and  for 
the  common-wealth!  defie  all  the  world,  Adam 
Ouerdoo^  for  a  difguife,  and  all  Jlory\  for  thou 
hafl  fitted  thy  felfe,  I  fweare;  faine  would  I 
meet  the  Linceus  now,  that  Eagles  eye,  that  peircing  Epi-  it 
daurian  ferpent  (as  my  Quint.  Horace  cal's  him)  that  could 
difcouer  a  luflice  of  Peace,  (and  lately  of  the  Quorum) 
vnder  this  couering.  They  may  haue  feene  many  a  foole 
in  the  habite  of  a  luflice;  but  neuer  till  now,  a  luflice  in 
the  habit  of  a  foole.  Thus  mud  we  doe,  though,  that  wake  20 
for  the  publike  good :  and  thus  hath  the  wife  Magiflrate 
done  in  all  ages.  There  is  a  doing  of  right  out  of  wrong, 
if  the  way  be  found.  Neuer  fhall  I  enough  commend  a 
worthy  worfhipf  ull  man,  fometime  a  capitall  member  of 
this  City,  for  his  high  wifdome,  in  this  point,  who  would  25 
take  you,  now  the  habit  of  a  Porter;  now  of  a  Carman; 
now  of  the  Dog-killer,  in  this  moneth  oiAuguJl\  and  in  the 
winter,  of  a  Seller  of  tinder-boxes;  and  what  would  hee 
doe  in  all  thefe  (hapes  ?  mary  goe  you  into  euery  Alehoufe, 

G  makes  but  one  scene  of  Act  II. 


32  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

and  down  into  euery  Celler;  meafure  the  length  of  pud- 
dings, take  the  gage  of  blacke  pots,  and  Cannes,  I,  and 
cuflards  with  a  flicke;  and  their  circumference,  with  a 
thrid;  weigh  the  loaues  of  bread  on  his  middle-finger; 
5  then  would  he  fend  for  'hem,  home;  giue  the  puddings  to 
the  poore,  the  bread  to  the  hungry,  the  cuflards  to  his 
children ;  breake  the  pots,  and  burne  the  Cannes,  himfelf e ; 
hee  Would  not  trufl  his  corrupt  officers ;  he  would  do't  him- 
felfe.     would  all  men  in  authority  would  follow  this  wor- 

lo   thy  prefident!     For  (alas)  as  we  are  publike  perfons,  what 

doe  we  know  ?  nay,  what  can  wee  know  ?  wee  heare  with 

other  mens  eares ;  we  fee  with  other  mens  eyes  ?  a  f oolifh 

[17]    Conflable,  or  a  fleepy  Watchman,  is  all  our  information, 

he  flanders  a  Gentleman,  by  the  vertue  of  his  place,  (as  he 

15  calls  it)  and  wee  by  the  vice  of  ours,  mufl  beleeue  him. 
As  a  while  agone,  they  made  mee,  yea  me,  to  miflake  an 
honefl  zealous  Purfiuant,  for  a  Seminary  :  and  a  proper 
yong  Batcheler  of  Muficke,  for  a  Bawd.  This  wee  are 
fubieft  to,  that  Hue  in  high  place,  all  our  intelligence  is 

20  idle,  and  mofl  of  our  intelligencers,  knaues:  and  by  your 
leaue,  our  felues,  thought  little  better,  if  not  errant  fooles, 
for  beleeuing  'hem.  I  Adam  Ouerdoo^  am  refolu'd  there- 
fore, to  fpare  fpy-money  hereafter,  and  make  mine  owne 
difcoueries.     Many  are  the  yeerely  enormities  of  this  Fayre^ 

25  in  whofe  courts  of  Pye-pouldres  I  haue  had  the  honour 
during  the  three  dayes  fometimes  to  fit  as  ludge.  But  this 
is  the  fpecial  day  for  dete6lion  of  thofe  forefaid  enormi- 
ties. Here  is  my  blacke  booke,  for  the  purpofe;  this  the 
cloud  that  hides  me:  vnder  this  couert  I  fhall  fee,  and  not 

30  be  feene.  On  lunius  Brutus.  And  as  I  began,  fo  I'll  end: 
in  luflice  name,  and  the  Kings ;  and  for  the  Common-wealth. 

10    prefident]  precedent  Wy  G  12     eyes?]  eyes.   i6g2,  17 16,  W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  33 


Act.  II.      Scene.  II. 

Leatherhead.     Trash.     Ivstice.     Vrsla. 

moone-calfe.      nightingale. 

Coftermonger,    Paffengers. 

'T^He  Fayre's  pellelence  dead,  mee  thinkes;  people  come 
not  abroad,  to  day,  what  euer  the  matter  is.  Doe  you 
heare.  Sifter  Trajh^  Lady  o'the  Basket  ?  fit  farther  with 
your  ginger  -  bread  -  progeny  there,  and  hinder  not  the 
profpe6l  of  my  (hop,  or  I'll  ha'it  proclaim'd  i'the  Fayre,  5 
what  ftuffe  they  are  made  on. 

Tra.     Why,    what    ftuffe   are   they   made    on.    Brother 
Leatherheadt  nothing  but  what's  wholefome,  I  affure  you. 

Lea.     Yes,  ftale  bread,  rotten  egges,  mufty  ginger,  and 
dead  honey,  you  know.  10 

Ivs.     I !  haue  I  met  with  enormity,  fo  foone  ? 

Lea.     I  fliall  marre  your  market,  old  lone. 

Tra.  Marre  my  market,  thou  too-proud  Pedler?  do 
thy  worft  ;  I  defie  thee,  I,  and  thy  ftable  of  hobby-horfes. 
I  paT^  for  my  ground,  as  well  as  thou  doft,  and  thou  15 
wrong'ft  mee  for  all  thou  art  parcell-poet,  and  an  Inginer. 
I'll  finde  a  friend  (hall  right  me,  and  make  a  ballad  of  thee, 
and  thy  cattell  all  ouer.  Are  you  puft  vp  with  the  pride 
of  your  wares  ?  your  Arfedine  ? 

Lea.     Goe  to,  old  lone^  I'll  talke  with  you  anone;  and   20 
take  you  downe  too,  afore  lustice  Ouerdoo^  he  is  the  man   [18] 
muft  charme  you.  He  ha'you  i'the  Piepouldres. 

Tra.     Charme  me?    I'll  meet  thee  face  to  face,  afore 
his  worfhip,  when  thou  dar'ft:   and  though  I  be  a  little 
crooked  o'my  body,  I'll  be  found  as  vpright  in  my  deal-   25 
ing,  as  any  woman  in  Smithfield^  I,  charme  me  ? 

Ivs.     I  am  glad,  to  heare,  my  name  is  their  terror,  yet, 
this  is  doing  of  luftice. 


34  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Lea.  What  doe  you  lacke  ?  what  is't  you  buy  ?  what 
do  you  lacke  ?  Rattles,  Drums,  Halberts,  Horfes,  Babies 
o'the  beft  ?     Fiddles  o'th  fined  ?  {Enter  Cojl. 

Cos.     Buy  any  peares,  peares,  fine,  very  fine  peares. 
5        Tra.     Buy  any  ginger-bread,  guilt  ginger-bread  ! 
Nig.     Hey,  now  the  Fayre' s  a  filling  \ 
O^  for  a  Tune  to  Jiartle 
The  Birds  o'the  Booths  here  billing : 
Yeerely  with  old  Saint  Barthle  ! 
lo  The  Drunkards  they  are  wading^ 

The  FunqueSy  and  Chapmen  trading ; 
Who' Id  fee  the  Fayre  without  his  lading  ?     Buy  any 
ballads ;  new  ballads  ? 

Vrs.     Fye  vpon't  :    who  would  weare  out  their  youth, 
15   and  prime  thus,  in  roafling  of  pigges,  that  had  any  cooler 
vocation  ?     Hell's  a  kind  of  cold  cellar  to't,  a  very   fine 
vault,  o'my  conscience  !    what  Moone-calfe. 
Moo.     Heere.   Miflreffe. 

Nig.  How  now  Vrfla  ?  in  a  heate,  in  a  heat  ? 
20  Vrs,  My  chayre,  you  falfe  faucet  you;  and  my  morn- 
ings draught,  quickly,  a  botle  of  Ale,  to  quench  mee, 
Rafcall.  I  am  all  fire  and  fat.  Nightingale^  I  fhall  e'en 
melt  away  to  the  firfl  woman,  a  ribbe  againe,  I  am  afraid. 
I  doe  water  the  ground  in  knots,  as  I  goe,  like  a  great 
25   Garden-pot,  you  may  follow  me  by  the  S.  S.^-  I  make. 

Nig.     Alas,  good  Vr's  ;  was  Zekiel  heere  this  morning  ? 
Vrs.     Zekiel  1  what  Zekiel  1 

Nig.     Zekiel  Edgeworth^  the  ciuill  cut-purfe,  you  know 
him  well  enough;  hee  that  talkes  "bawdy  to  you  flill:  I 
30  call  him  my  Secretary. 

Vrs.  He  promis'd  to  be  heere  this  morning.  I  re- 
member. 

Nig.     When   he   comes,   bid   him    flay:    I'll   be   backe 
againe  prefently. 
35       Vrs.     Befl   take   your   mornings   dew   in   your   belly, 

•  Nightingale^         \Moon-calfe  brings  in  the  Chaire.'\       COme,  Sir,  fet 
25   S.  S.8-]  S.  S.  i6g2,  1716,  W,  G     35    morning  Dew  i6g2, 1716,  W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  35 

it  heere,  did  not  I  bid  you  fhould  get  this  chayre  let  out 
o'the  fides,  for  me,  that  my  hips  might  play  ?  you'll  neuer 
thinke  of  any  thing,  till  your  dame  be  rumpgall'd  ;  'tis 
well,  Changeling  :  becaufe  it  can  take  in  your  Graffe-hop- 
pers  thighes,  you  care  for  no  more.  Now,  you  looke  as  5 
you  had  been  i'the  corner  o'the  Booth,  fleaing  your  breech,  [19]^ 
with  a  candles  end,  and  fet  fire  o'the  Fayre.  Fill,  Stote  : 
fill. 

Ivs.     This  Pig-woman  doe  I  know,  and  I  will  put  her 
in,  for  my  fecond  enormity,  fhee  hath  beene  before  mee,    10 
jPunke,  Pinnace  and  Bawd^  any  time  thefe  two  and  twenty 
yeeres,  vpon  record  i'the  Pie-poudres. 

Vrs.     Fill  againe,  you  vnlucky  vermine. 

Moo.       'Pray    you   be  not   angry,    Miflreffe,    I'll   ha'it 
widen'd  anone.  15 

Vrs.  No,  no,  I  (hall  e'en  dwindle  away  to't,  ere  the 
Fayre  be  done,  you  thinke,  now  you  ha'heated  me?  A 
poore  vex'd  thing  I  am,  I  feele  my  felfe  dropping  already, 
as  fall  as  I  can :  two  Hone  a  fewet  aday  is  my  proportion : 
I  can  but  hold  life  &  foule  together,  with  this  (heere's  to  20 
you.  Nightingale)  and  a  whiff e  of  tobacco,  at  moll.  Where's 
my  pipe  now  ?  not  fiU'd  ?  thou  errant  Incubee. 

Nig.     Nay,  Vrfla^  thou'lt  gall  betweene  the  tongue  and 
the  teeth,  with  fretting,  now. 

Vrs.  How  can  I  hope,  that  euer  hee'U  difcharge  his  25 
place  of  trufl,  Tapller,  a  man  of  reckoning  vnder  me,  that 
remembers  nothing  I  fay  to  him  ?  but  looke  too't,  firrah, 
you  were  befl,  three  pence  a  pipe  full,  I  will  ha'made,  of 
all  my  whole  halfe  pound  of  tabacco,  and  a  quarter  of  a 
pound  of  Coltsfoot^  mixt  with  it  too,  to  itch  it  out.  I  that  30 
haue  dealt  fo  long  in  the  fire,  will  not  be  to  feek  in  fmoak, 
now.  Then  6.  and  20.  (hillings  a  barrell  I  will  aduance  o' 
my  Beere;  and  fifty  (hillings  a  hundred  o'my  bottle-ale,  I 
ha'told  you  the  waies  how  to  raife  it.  Froth  your  Cannes 
well  i'the  filling,  at  length  Rogue,    and  iogge  your  bottles  35 

I     this  chayre]  a  chair  W,  G  28     bed,]  best.  W,  G 

30    itch]  eech  i6g2,  17 16,  W:  [eke]  G 


f 


36  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

o'the  buttocke,  Sirrah,  then  skinke  out  the  firfl  glaffe, 
euer,  and  drinke  with  all  companies,  though  you  be  fure 
to  be  drunke;  you'll  mif- reckon  the  better,  and  be  leffe 
afham'd  on't.  But  your  true  tricke,  Rafcall,  mufl  be,  to 
5  be  euer  bufie,  and  mif-take  away  the  bottles  and  Cannes, 
in  hall,  before  they  be  halfe  drunke  off,  and  neuer  heare 
any  body  call,  (if  they  fhould  chance  to  marke  you)  till 
you  ha'brought  frelh,  and  be  able  to  forfweare  'hem. 
Giue  me  a  drinke  of  Ale. 
10  Ivs.  This  is  the  very  wombe,  and  bedde  of  enormitie! 
groffe,  as  her  felfe!  this  mufl  all  downe  for  enormity,  all, 
euery  whit  on't.  {^One  knocks. 

Vrs.     Looke,  who's  there,  Sirrah  ?  fine  (hillings  a  Pigge 
is  my  price,  at  leall;  if  it  be  a  fow-pig,  fix  pence  more:  if 
15  fhe  be  a  great  bellied  wife,  and  long  for't,  fix  pence  more 
for  that. 

Ivs.      O  Tempora  \   O  mores  !    I  would  not  ha'loll  my  dif- 

couery  of  this  one  grieuance,  for  my  place,  and  worfhip  o* 

the  Bench,  how  is  the  poore  fubie6l  abus'd,  here!  well,  I 

20  will  fall  in  with  her,  and  with  her  Moone-calfe,  and  winne 

out  wonders  of  enormity.      By  thy  leaue,  goodly  woman, 

and  the  fatneffc  of  the  Fayre  :  oyly  as  the  Kings  conflables 

Lampe,  and  fhining  as  his  Shooing-horne!  hath  thy  Ale 

vertue,  or  thy  Beere  flrength  ?  that  the  tongue  of  man  may 

[20]  be  tickled  ?  and  his  palat  pleas'd  in  the  morning  ?  let  thy 

pretty  Nephew  here,  goe  fearch  and  fee. 

Vrs.     What  new  Roarer  is  this  ? 

Moo.  O  Lord!  doe  you  not  know  him,  Miftris,  'tis  mad 
Arthur  of  Bradley,  that  makes  the  Orations.  Braue  Mafler, 
2©  old  Arthur  of  Bradley,  how  doe  you  ?  welcome  to  the  Fayre^ 
when  fhall  wee  heare  you  againe,  to  handle  your  matters  ? 
with  your  backe  againe  a  Booth,  ha  ?  I  ha'bin  one  o'your 
little  difciples,  i'my  dayes! 

Ivs.     Let  me  drinke,  boy,  with  my  loue,  thy  Aunt,  here; 
^e  that  I  may  be  eloquent:  but  of  thy  befl,  left  it  be  bitter  in 
my  mouth,  and  my  words  fall  foule  on  the  Fayre. 

Vrs.     Why  doft  thou  not  fetch  him  drinke  ?  and  offer 
him  to  fit  ? 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  37 

Moo.     Is't  Ale,  or  Beere  ?  Mafler  Arthur  ? 

Ivs.  Thy  bed,  pretty  flripling,  thy  beft ;  the  fame  thy 
Doue  drinketh,  and  thou  drawell  on  holy  dales. 

Vrs.  Bring  him  a  fixe  penny  bottle  of  Ale;  they  fay,  a 
fooles  handfell  is  lucky. 

Ivs.  Bring  both,  child.  Ale  for  Arthur^  and  Beere  for 
Bradley.  Ale  for  thine  Aunt,  boy.  My  difguife  takes  to 
the  very  wilh,  and  reach  of  it.  I  ftiall  by  the  benefit  of  this, 
difcouer  enough,  and  more:  and  yet  get  off  with  the  repu- 
tation of  what  I  would  be.  A  certaine  midling  thing, 
betweene  a  foole  and  a  madman. 


Act.  II.      Scene  III. 
Knockhvm.  ]  to  them, 

TT'TT^Hat!   my  little  leane  Vrjla  !    my  (hee-Beare!    art 
thou  aliue  yet?  with  thy  litter  of  pigges,   to 
grunt  out  another  Bartholmew  Fayrel  ha! 

Vrs.     Yes,  and  to  amble  afoote,  when  the  Fayre  is  done^    15 
to  heare  you  groane  out  of  a  cart,  vp  the  heauy  hill. 

Kno.     Of  Holbourne,  Vrfla^  meanll  thou  fo  ?  for  what  ? 
for  what,  pretty  Vrfl 

Vrs.     For  cutting  halfe-penny  purfes:  or  flealing  little 
penny  dogges,  out  o'the  Fayre.  20 

Kno.     O  !  good  words,  good  words,  Vrf. 

Ivs.     Another  fpeciall  enormitie.      A  cutpurfe  of  the 
fword!  the  boote,  and  the  feather!  thofe  are  his  marks. 

Vrs.     You  are  one  of  thofe  horfleaches,  that  gaue  out  I 
was  dead,  in  Turne-bull  flreete,  of  a  furfet  of  botle  ale,  and   25 
tripes  ? 

Kno.     No,  'twas  better  meat  Vrs\  cowes  vdders,  cowes 
vdders ! 

Vrs.     Well,  I  fhall  be  meet  with  your  mumbling  mouth  [21] 
one  day.  30 


38  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Kno.    What  ?  thou'lt  poyfon  mee  with  a  neuft  in  a  bottle 

of  Ale,   wiirt  thou  ?   or  a  fpider  in  a  tobacco-pipe,  Vrs  ? 

Come,  there's  no  malice  in  thefe  fat  folkes,  I  neuer  feare 

thee,   and  I  can  fcape  thy  leane  Moonecalfe  heere.      Let's 

5   drinke  it  out,  good  Vrs^  and  no  vapours! 

Ivs.     Dofl  thou  heare,   boy  ?  (there's  for  thy  Ale,   and 
the  remnant  for  thee)  fpeake  in  thy  faith  of  a  faucet,  now ; 
is  this  goodly  perfon  before  vs  here,  this  vapours,  a  knight 
of  the  knife  ? 
lo        Moo.     What  meane  you  by  that,  Mafler  Arthur  ? 

Ivs.  I  meane  a  child  of  the  horne-thumb,  a  babe  of 
booty,  boy  ;  a  cutpurfe. 

Moo.     O  Lord,  Sir  !  far  from  it.     This  is  Mafler  Dan. 
Knockhum:  lordane  the  Ranger  of  Turnebull.     He  is  a  horfe- 
15   courfer,  Sir. 

Ivs.     Thy  dainty  dame,  though,  call'd  him  cutpurfe. 

Moo.     Like  enough,  Sir,  fhe'll  doe  forty  fuch  things  in 
an  houre  (an  you  lillen  to  her)  for  her  recreation,    if  the 
toy  take  her  i'the  greafie  kerchiefe:    it  makes  her  fat  you 
20   fee.     Shee  battens  with  it. 

Ivs.  Here  might  I  ha'beene  deceiu'd,  now:  and  ha* 
put  a  fooles  blot  vpon  my  felfe,  if  I  had  not  play'd  an  after 
game  o'difcretion.  [  Vrjla  comes  in  againe  dropping. 

Kno.     Alas  poore  Vrs^  this's  an  ill  feafon  for  thee. 
25        Vrs.     Hang  your  felfe,  Hacney-man. 

Kno.  How  ?  how  ?  Vrs^  vapours  !  motion  breede 
vapours  ? 

Vrs.  Vapours  ?  Neuer  tuske,  nor  twirle  your  dibble, 
good  lordane^  I  know  what  you'll  take  to  a  very  drop. 
30  Though  you  be  Captaine  o'the  Roarers,  and  fight  well  at 
the  cafe  of  pif-pots,  you  fhall  not  fright  me  with  your 
Lyon-chap,  Sir,  nor  your  tuskes,  you  angry  ?  you  are  hun- 
gry: come,  a  pigs  head  will  flop  your  mouth,  and  flay 
your  flomacke,  at  all  times. 

13    Dan.  Knockhum  Jordan  :    W:    Daniel  Knockem  Jordan  :  G 
21    might  I  ha'beene]  I  might  have  been  G 
32    tuskes,]  Tusks  ;  i6g2,  17 16,  W,  G 


OP   THE 
OF 

Bartholmevv  Fayre.  39 

Kno.  Thou  art  fuch  another  mad  merry  Vrs  ilill !  Troth 
I  doe  make  confcience  of  vexing  thee,  now  i'the  dog- 
daies,  this  hot  weather,  for  feare  of  foundring  thee  i'the 
bodie;  and  melting  down  a  Filler  oi  the  Fayre.  Pray  thee 
take  thy  chayre  againe,  and  keepe  flate ;  and  let's  haue  a  5 
frefh  bottle  of  Ale,  and  a  pipe  of  tabacco ;  and  no  vapours, 
rie  ha'this  belly  o'thine  taken  vp,  and  thy  graffe  fcour'd, 
wench ;  looke !  heere's  Ezechiel  Edgworth ;  a  fine  boy  of  his 
inches,  as  any  is  i'the  Fayre\  has  ftill  money  in  his  purfe, 
and  will  pay  all,  with  a  kind  heart ;  and  good  vapours.  10 


Act.  II.      Scene.  IIII.  [22] 

To  them  Edgworth.  Nightingale. 
Corne-cutter,     Tinder-box-man.     PaJJengers. 

THat  I  will,  indeede,  willingly,  Mailer  Knockhum^  fetch 
fome  Ale,  and  Tabacco. 

Lea.  What  doe  you  lacke.  Gentlemen?  Maid: 
fee  a  fine  hobby  horfe  for  your  young  Mafler:  cofl  you 
but  a  token  a  weeke  his  prouander.  15 

Cor.     Ha'you  any  comes  'iyour  feete,  and  toes  ? 
Tin.     Buy  a  Moufe-trap,  a  Moufe-trap,  or  a  Tormentor 
for  a  Flea. 

Tra.     Buy  fome  Ginger-bread. 

Nig.     Ballads,  Ballads  !  fine  new  ballads :  20 

Heare  for  your  loue^  and  buy  for  your  money. 
A  delicate  ballad  o'the  Ferret  and  the  Coney. 
A  preferuatiue  again  the  Punques  euill. 
Another  of  Goofe-greene-ftarch,  and  the  Deuill. 
A  dozen  of  diuine  points,  and  the  Godly  garters.  25 

The   Fairing   of   good   councell,    of  an   ell  and  three 

quarters.     What  is' t  you  buy  ? 
The  Wind-mill  blowne  downe  by  the  witches  fart ! 
Or  Saint  George,  that  O  !  did  breake  the  Dragons  heart ! 


40  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Edg.     Mafler  Nightingale^  come  hither,  leaue  your  mart 
a  little. 

Nig.     O  my  Secretary!  what  fayes  my  Secretarie? 
Ivs.     Childe  o'the  bottles,  what's  he  ?  what  he  ? 
5       Moo.     A  ciuill  young  Gentleman,  Mafler  Arthur^  that 
keepes  company  with  the  Roarers,  and  disburfes  all,  flill. 
He  has  euer  money  in  his  purfe ;  He  payes  for  them ;  and 
they    roare  for  him :     one  do's  good  offices  for  another. 
They  call  him  the  Secretary,  but  he  femes  no  body.     A 
lo  great  friend  of  the  Ballad-mans  they  are  neuer  afunder. 

Ivs.     What  pitty  'tis,  fo  ciuill  a  young  man  fhould  haunt 
this  debaucht  company  ?  here's  the  bane  of  the  youth  of 
our  time  apparant.     A  proper  penman,  I  fee't  in  his  coun- 
tenance, he  has  a  good  Clerks  looke  with  him,  and  I  war- 
15   rant  him  a  quicke  hand. 

Moo.     A  very  quicke  hand.  Sir, 

Edg.     All  the  purfes,  and  purchafe,  I  giue  you  to  day 

[23]  by  conueyance,  bring  hither  to  Vrjla's  prefently.    Heere  we 

will  meet  at  night  in  her  lodge,  and  fhare.      Looke  you 

20  choofe  good  places,  for  your  (landing  i'the  Fayre,   when 

you  fing  Nightingale.    [  This  they  whifper,  that  Ouerdoo  heares  it  not. 

Vrs.     I,  neere  the  f ullefl  paffages ;  and  fhif t  'hem  often. 

Edg.     And  i'your  fmging,  you  muft  vfe  your  hawks  eye 

nimbly,   and  flye  the  purfe  to  a  marke,   flill,   where  'tis 

25  worne,  and   o'which  fide;    that  you  may  gi'me  the    figne 

with  your  beake,  or  hang  your   head  that  way  i'the  tune. 

Vrs.     Enough,    talke    no    more    on't:    your   friendfhip 

(Maflers)  is  not  now  to  beginne.     Drinke  your  draught  of 

Indenture,  your  fup  of  Couenant,  and  away,  the  Fayre  fils 

30  apace,  company  begins  to  come  in,  and  I  ha'ne'er  a  Pigge 

ready,  yet. 

Kno.     Well  faid!  fill  the  cups,  and  light  the  tabacco: 
let's  giue  fire  i'th'works,  and  noble  vapours. 

Edg.     And  fhall  we  ha'fmockes  Vrfla^  and  good  whim- 
35  ^^es,  ha? 

4    what  he]  what's  he  i6g2,  iyi6,  W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  41 

Vrs.  Come,  you  are  i'your  bawdy  vaine !  the  befl  the 
Fayre  will  afford,  Zekiel,  if  Bawd  Whit  keepe  his  word; 
how  doe  the  Pigges,  Moone-calfe  ? 

Moo.     Very  paffionate,  Miflreffe,  on  on  'hem  has  wept 
out  an  eye.      Mailer  Arthur  o' Bradley  is  melancholy,  heere,     5 
nobody   talkes   to    him.      Will   you    any   tabacco    Mailer 
Arthur  ? 

Ivs.     No,  boy,  let  my  meditations  alone. 

Moo.     He's  lludying  for  an  Oration,  now. 

Ivs.      If  I  can,  with  this  dales  trauell,  and  all  my  policy,    10 
but  refcue  this  youth,  here  out  of  the  hand's  of  the  lewd 
man,  and  the  llrange  woman.      I  will  fit  downe  at  night, 
and  fay  with  my  friend   Ouid^    lamq  ;  opus  exegi,   quod  nee 
louis  ira,  nee  ignis ^  ^'c. 

Kno.      Here  Zekiel :   here's  a  health  to  Frjla,  and  a  kind   15 
vapour,  thou  hall  money  i'thy  purfe  Hill  ;  and  llore  !  how 
dofl  thou  come  by  it  ?     Pray  thee  vapour  thy  friends  fome 
in  a  courteous  vapour. 

Edg.  Halfe  I  haue.  Mailer  Dan.  Knockhum^  is  alwaies 
at  your  feruice,  20 

Ivs.  Ha,  fweete  nature!  what  Golhawke  would  prey 
vpon  fuch  a  Lambe  ? 

Kno.  Let's  fee,  what  'tis,  Zekiel  \  count  it,  come,  fill 
him  to  pledge  mee. 


Act.  II.      Scene.  V.  [24] 

VViN-wiFE.     QvARLOvs.      {  to  them, 

TT^TT'Ee  are  heere  before  'hem,  me  thinkes.  25 

QvAR.     All  the  better,  we  Ihall  fee  'hem  come 
in  now. 

Lea.     What  doe  you  lacke.  Gentlemen,  what  is't  you 
lacke  ?  a  fine  Horfe  ?  a  Lyon  ?    a  Bull  ?   a  Beare  ?   a  Dog, 

4    on'  on  'em  i6g2  :  one  on  'em  i'ji6,   W :  one  of  'em  G 
10    travail  G  13    lamq  ;  opus]  Jamque  opus  idgSy  1716,  JV,  G 


42  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

or  a  Cat  ?  an  excellent  fine  Bartholmew-hird  ?  or  an  Inflru- 
ment  ?  what  is't  you  lacke  ? 

QvAR.     S'lid!    heere's  Orpheus  among   the  beafls,  with 
his  Fiddle,  and  all ! 
5       Tra.     Will  you  buy  any  comfortable  bread,  Gentlemen  ? 
QvAR.      And   Ceres   felling   her   daughters   pidlure,    in 
Ginger-worke ! 

Win.     That  thefe  people  (hould  be  fo  ignorant  to  thinke 
vs  chapmen  for  'hem  !  doe  wee  looke  as  if  wee  would  buy 
lo  Ginger-bread  ?  or  Hobby-horfes  ? 

QvAR.     Why,  they  know  no  better  ware  then  they  haue, 

nor  better  cuflomers   then  come.     And   our  very  being 

here   makes   vs   fit   to   be  demanded,  as  well  as   others. 

Would  Cokes  would  come  !    there  were  a  true  cuflomer  for 

15  'hem. 

Kno.     How  much  is't  ?  thirty  (hillings  ?    who's  yonder! 

Ned  Winwife  ?   and  Tom  Quarlous,  I  thinke  !  yes,  (gi'me  it 

all)  (gi'me  it  all)  Mafler  Win-wife\   Mafler  Quarlous  !  will 

you  take  a  pipe  of  tabacco  with  vs  ?  do  not  difcredit  me 

20  now,  Zekiel. 

Win.     Doe  not  fee  him!  he  is  the  roaring  horfe-courfer, 
pray  thee  let's  auoyd  him  :  turne  downe  this  way. 

QvAR.     S'lud,   rie  fee  him,   and  roare  with  him,    too, 
and  hee  roar'd  as  loud  as  Neptune^  pray  thee  goe  with  me. 
25       Win.     You  may  draw  me  to  as  likely  an  inconuenience, 
when  you  pleafe,  as  this. 

QvAR.     Goe  to  then,  come  along,  we  ha'nothing  to  doe, 
man,  but  to  fee  fights,  now. 

Kno.     Welcome  Mafler  Quarlous^  and  Mafler  Winwife  ! 
30  will  you  take  any  froth,  and  fmoake  with  vs  ? 

QvAR.     Yes,  Sir,  but  you'l  pardon  vs,  if  we  knew  not 
of  fo  much  familiarity  betweene  vs  afore. 
Kno.     As  what,  Sir  ? 

QvAR.     To  be  fo  lightly  inuited  to  fmoake,  and  froth. 
35       Kno.     a  good  vapour!   will  you  fit  downe.   Sir?  this 
[25]  is  old  Vrfla's  manfion,  how  like  you  her  bower  ?  heere  you 
may  ha'your  Punque,  and  your  Pigge  in  flate.  Sir,  both 
piping  hot. 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  43 

QvAR.     I  had  rather  ha'my  Punque,  cold,  Sir. 

Ivs.     There's  for  me,  Punque!  and  Pigge! 

Vrs.     What  Moonecalfe  ?  you  Rogue.       V^f^^  ^'^^^^  within. 

Moo.     By  and  by,   the  bottle  is  almoll  off  Miflreffe, 
here  Mafler  Arthur.  5 

Vrs.     rie  part  you,  and  your  play-fellow  there,  i'the 
garded  coat,  an'  you  funder  not  the  fooner. 

Kno.     Mafler  Win  wife^   you    are   proud    (me   thinkes) 
you  doe  not  talke,  nor  drinke,  are  you  proud  ? 

Win.     Not  of  the  company  I  am  in.  Sir,  nor  the  place,    10 
I  affure  you. 

Kno.     You  doe  not  except  at  the  company  !  doe  you  ? 
are  you  in  vapours,  Sir  ? 

Moo.     Nay,   good   Mafler  Dan:  Knockhum^   refpe6l  my 
Miflris    Bower,    as   you  call   it;    for  the    honour  of  our    15 
Booth,  none  o'your  vapours  heere. 

\^She  comes  out  with  a  fire-brand. 

Vrs.  Why,  you  thinne  leane  Polcat  you,  and  they 
haue  a  minde  to  be  i'their  vapours,  mufl  you  hinder  'hem  ? 
what  did  you  know  Vermine,  if  they  would  ha'lofl  a 
cloake,  or  fuch  a  trifle  ?  mufl  you  be  drawing  the  ayre  of  20 
pacification  heere  ?  while  I  am  tormented,  within,  i'the 
fire,  you  Weafell  ? 

Moo.     Good    Miflreffe,    'twas  in  the  behalfe  of    your 
Booth's  credit  that  I  fpoke. 

Vrs,  Why  ?  would  my  Booth  ha'broake,  if  they  had  25 
fal'ne  out  in't  ?  Sir?  or  would  their  heate  ha'fir'd  it?  in, 
you  Rogue,  and  wipe  the  pigges,  and  mend  the  fire,  that 
they  fall  not,  or  I'le  both  bafle  and  roafl  you,  till  your  eyes 
drop  out,  like  'hem.  (Leaue  the  bottle  behinde  you,  and 
be  curfl  a  while.)  30 

QvAR.     Body  o'the  Fayre\    what's  this?    mother  o'the 
Bawds  ? 

Kno.     No,  fhe's  mother  o'the   Pigs,   Sir,  mother   o'the 
Pigs! 

Win.       Mother  o'the  Furies.,  I  thinke,  by  her  firebrand.   35 

23    in  the  behalfe]  in  behalf  G 


44  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

QvAR.     Nay,  fhee  is  too  fat  to  be  a  Fury^  fure,    fome 
walking  Sow  of  tallow  ! 

Win.     An  infpir'd  veffell  of  Kitchin-ftuffe  !, 
QvAR.       She'll    make   excellent    geere  for  the    Coach- 
5    makers,  here  in  Smithfield,  to  anoynt  wheeles  and  axell 
trees  with.  \She  drinkes  this  while. 

Vrs.  I,  I,  Gamefters,  mocke  a  plaine  plumpe  foft  wench 
o'the  Suburbs,  doe,  becaufe  (he's  iuicy  and  wholefome  : 
you  mufl  ha'your  thinne  pinch'd  ware,  pent  vp  i'the 
lo  compaffe  of  a  dogge-collar,  (or  'twill  not  do)  that  lookes 
like  a  long  lac'd  Conger^  fet  vpright,  and  a  greene  feather, 
like  fennell  i'the  loll  on't. 

Kno.     Well  faid  Vrs^  my  good  Vrs  ;  to  'hem  Vrs. 
QvAR.     Is  fhee  your  quagmire,  Dan  :  Knockhum  ?  is  this 
15   your  Bogge  ? 

Nig.     We  fhall  haue  a  quarrel  prefently. 
[26]       Kno.       How  ?      Bog  ?      Quagmire  ?      foule   vapours  ! 
hum'h  ! 

QvAR.     Yes,  hee  that  would  venture  for't,  I  affure  him, 
20   might  fmke  into  her,  and  be  drown'd  a  weeke,  ere  any 
friend  hee  had,  could  find  where  he  were. 

Win.       And  then  he  would  be  a  fort'night  weighing  vp 
again  e. 

QvAR.     'Twere  like  falling  into  a  whole  Shire  of  butter: 
25    they  had  need  be  a  teeme  of  Dutchmen^   (hould   draw  him 
out. 

Kno.     Anfwer  'hem,    Vrs^  where's  thy  Barfholmew -wit, 
now  ?   Vrs^  thy  Bartholmew-wit  ? 

Vrs.  Hang  'hem,  rotten,  roguy  Cheaters,  I  hope  to  fee 
30  'hem  plagu'd  one  day  (pox'd  they  are  already,  I  am  fure) 
with  leane  playhoufe  poultry,  that  has  the  boany  rumpe, 
flicking  out  like  the  Ace  of  Spades,  or  the  point  of  a 
Partizan,  that  euery  rib  of  'hem  is  like  the  tooth  of  a  Saw : 
aud  will  fo  grate  'hem  with  their  hips,  &  (houlders,  as 
35  (take  'hem  altogether)  they  were  as  good  lye  with  a  hurdle. 
«  QvAR.  Out  vpon  her,  how  (he  drips  !  Ihe's  able  to  giue 
a  man  the  fweating  Sickneffe,  with  looking  on  her. 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  45 

Vrs.  Mary  looke  off,  with  a  patch  o'your  face  ;  and  a 
dofen  i'your  breech,  though  they  be  o'fcarlet,  Sir.  I  ha' 
feene  as  fine  outfides,  as  either  o'yours,  bring  lowfie 
linings  to  the  Brokers,  ere  now,  twice  a  weeke. 

QvAR.     Doe  you  thinke  there  may  be  a  fine  new  Cuck-     5 
ingfloole  i'the  Fayre^  to  be  purchas'd  ?   one  large  inough, 
I  meane.     I  know  there  is  a  pond  of  capacity,  for  her. 

Vrs.  For  yonr  mother,  you  Rafcall,  out  you  Rogue, 
you  hedge  bird,  you  Pimpe,  you  pannier-mans  baflard,  you. 

QvAR.     Ha,  ha,  ha.  '  10 

Vrs.  Doe  you  fneerc,  you  dogs-head,  you  Trendle  tayle\ 
you  looke  as  you  were  begotten  a'top  of  a  Cart  in  haruefl- 
time,  when  the  whelp  was  hot  and  eager.  Go,  fnuffe  after 
your  brothers  bitch,  M'"^  Commodity^  that's  the  Liuory  you 
weare,  'twill  be  out  at  the  elbows,  fhortly.  It's  time  you  15 
went  to't,  for  the  to'ther  remnant. 

Kno.  Peace,  Vrs^  peace,  Vrs^  they'll  kill  the  poore 
Whale,  and  make  oyle  of  her.     Pray  thee  goe  in. 

Vrs.  rie  fee  'hem  pox'd  firfl,  and  pil'd,  and  double 
pil'd.  20 

Win.  Let's  away,  her  language  growes  greafier  then 
her  Pigs. 

Vrs.     Dos*t   fo,    fnotty   nofe  ?     good  Lord  !     are   you 
fniueling  ?     you  were  engendred  on    a   flie-beggar,    in   a 
barne,    when   the  bald   Thrafher,   your   Sire,   was   fcarce  25 
warme. 

Win.     Pray  thee,  let's  goe. 

Qvar.  No,  faith  :  I'le  flay  the  end  of  her,  now  :  I 
know  fhee  cannot  lafi:  long  ;  I  finde  by  her  fL7niles^  fhee 
wanes  a  pace.  30 

Vrs.  Do's  fhee  fo  ?  I'le  fet  you  gone.  Gi'mee  my 
Pig-pan  hither  a  little.  I'le  fcald  you  hence,  and  you  will 
not  goe. 

Kno.  Gentlemen,  thefe  are  very  flrange  vapours  !  and 
very  idle  vapours  !  I  affure  you.  35 

Qvar.     You  are  a  very  ferious  affe,  wee  affure  you. 

4    linings]  Linnen  lyid  :  linen  JV 


46  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

[27]        Kno.      Humh  !    Affe  ?    and  ferious  ?    nay,  then  pardon 
mee  my  vapour.     I  haue  a  foolifh  vapour,   Gentlemen  : 
any  man  that  doe's  vapour  me,  the  Affe,  Mafler  Quarlous — 
QvAR.     What  then.  Mailer  Jordan  ? 
5        Kno.     I  doe  vapour  him  the  lye. 

QvAR.     Faith,   and  to  any  man  that  vapours  mee  the 
lie,  I  doe  vapour  that. 

Kno.     Nay,  then,  vapours  vpon  vapours. 

[Vrfla  comes  in,  with  the  fcalding-pan.      They  fight. 

Edg.   Nig.      'Ware    the    pan,   the  pan,   the   pan,    fhee 
10   comes  with  the  pan,  Gentlemen.     [Shee  falls  with  it.'\     God 
bleffe  the  woman. 
Vrs.     Oh. 

Era.     What's  the  matter  ? 
Ivs.     Goodly  woman  ! 
15        Moo.     Millreffe  ! 

Vrs.     Curfe  of  hell,  that  euer  I  faw  thefe  Feinds,  oh  ! 

I  ha'fcalded  my  leg,  my  leg,  my  leg,  my  leg.     I  ha'lofl  a 

limb  in  the  feruice  !    run  for  fome  creame  and  fallad  oyle, 

quickly.    Are  you  vnder-peering,  you  Baboun  ?  rip  off  my 

20   hofe,  an'  you  be  men,  men,  men. 

Moo.     Runne  you  for  fome  creame,  good  mother  lone. 
rie  looke  to  your  basket. 

Lea.  Beff  fit  vp  i'your  chaire,  Vrjla.  Help,  Gentle- 
men. 
25  Kno.  Be  of  good  cheere,  Vrs^  thou  haft  hindred  me 
the  currying  of  a  couple  of  Stallions,  here,  that  abus'd 
the  good  TdiCQ-Bawd  o'Smithfield  ;  'twas  time  for  'hem  to 
goe. 

Nig.     I  faith,  when  the  panne  came,  they  had  made  you 
30   runne  elfe.     (this  had  beene  a  fine  time  for  purchafe,  if 
you  had  ventur'd.) 

Edg.     Not  a  whit,  thefe  fellowes  were  too  fine  to  carry 
-money. 

Kno.     Nightingale^  get  fome  helpe  to  carry  her  legge 
35    out  o'the  ayre;   take  off  her  ftiooes;  body  o'me,  ftie  has 

13    Tra.  I'jid,  W:  Trash.  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  47 

the  Mallanders,  the  fcratches,  the  crowne  fcabbe,  and  the 
quitter  bone,  i'the  tother  legge. 

Vrs.  Oh!  the  poxe,  why  doe  you  put  me  in  minde  o' 
™y  lcg>  thus,  to  make  it  prick,  and  (hoot  ?  would  you  ha'me 
i'the  Hofpitall,  afore  my  time  ?  5 

Kno.  Patience,  Vrs^  take  a  good  heart,  'tis  but  a  bliller, 
as  big  as  a  Windgall ;  I'le  take  it  away  with  the  white  of 
an  egge,  a  little  honey,  and  hogs  greafe,  ha'thy  paflernes 
well  rol'd,  and  thou  fhall't  pafe  againe  by  to  morrow, 
rie  tend  thy  Booth,  and  looke  to  thy  affaires,  the  while:  10 
thou  fhalt  fit  i'thy  chaire,  and  giue  diredlions,  and  (hine 
Vr/a  maior. 


Act.  II.      Scene.  VI.  [28] 

IVSTICE.       EdGEWORTH.       NIGHTIN- 
GALE.    Cokes.     Waspe.      Miftris 
OvERDOO.     Grace. 

'nr^Hefe  are  the  fruites  of  bottle-ale,   and  tabacco!   the 
fome  of  the  one,  and  the  fumes  of  the  other!     Stay 
young  man,  and  defpife  not  the  wifedome  of  thefe  few   15 
hayres,  that  are  growne  gray  in  care  of  thee. 

Edg.     Nightingale^  flay  a  little.     Indeede  I'le  heare  fome 
o'this! 

CoK.     Come,  Numps^  come,  where  are  you  ?   welcome 
into  the  Fayre,  Miflris  Grace.  20 

Edg.     S'light,  hee  will  call  company,  you  fhall  fee,  and 
put  vs  into  doings  prefently. 

Ivs.     Third  not  after  that  frothy  liquor.  Ale:  for,  who 
knowes,  when  hee  openeth  the  flopple,  what  may  be  in 
the  bottle  ?  hath  not  a  Snaile,  a  Spider,  yea,  a  Neuft  bin    25 
found  there  ?  thirfl  not  after  it,  youth:  thirfl  not  after  it. 

CoK.     This  is  a  braue  fellow,  Numps,  let's  heare  him. 


/ 


48  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Was.     S'blood,  how  braue  is  he?    in  a  garded  coate  ? 
you  were  befl  trucke  with  him,  e'en  flrip,  and  trucke  pref- 
ently,  it  will  become  you,  why  will  you  heare  him,  becaufe 
he  is  an  Affe,  and  may  be  a  kinnne  to  the  Cokefes  ? 
5        CoK.     O,  good  Numps\ 

Ivs.  Neither  doe  thou  lull  after  that  tawney  weede, 
tabacco. 

CoK.     Braue  words! 

Ivs.     Whofe  complexion  is  like  the  Indians  that  vents  it? 
lo        CoK.     Are  they  not  braue  words,  Sifler  ? 

Ivs.  And  who  can  tell,  if,  before  the  gathering,  and 
making  vp  thereof,  the  Alligarta  hath  not  pifs'd  thereon  ? 

Was.  'Heart  let  'hem  be  braue  words,  as  braue  as  they 
will!  and  they  were  all  the  braue  words  in  a  Countrey, 
15  how  then  ?  will  you  away  yet  ?  ha'you  inough  on  him  ? 
Miflris  Grace,  come  you  away,  I  pray  you,  be  not  you 
acceffary.  If  you  doe  lofe  your  Licence,  or  fome- 
what  elfe,  Sir,  with  liflning  to  his  fables:  fay,  Numps,  is  a 
witch,  with  all  my  heart,  doe,  fay  fo. 
20       CoK.     Avoyd  i'your  fattin  doublet,  Numps. 

Ivs.     The  creeping  venome  of  which  fubtill  ferpent,  as 
[29]   fome  late  writers  affirme;  neither  the  cutting  of  the  per- 
rillous  plant,   nor  the  drying  of  it,   nor  the  lighting,  or 
burning,  can  any  way  perffway  or,  affwage. 
25        CoK.     Good,  i'faith!  is't  not  Sifter  ? 

Ivs.     Hence  it  is,  that  the  lungs  of  the  Tabacconift  are 
rotted,  the  Liuer  fpotted,  the  braine  fmoak'd  like  the  back- 
fide  of  the  Pig-womans  Booth,  here,  and  the  whole  body 
within,  blacke,  as  her  Pan,  you  faw  e'en  now,  without. 
30        CoK.     A  fine  fimilitude,  that.  Sir!  did  you  fee  the  panne? 

Edg.     Yes,  Sir. 

Ivs.  Nay,  the  hole  in  the  nofe  heere,  of  fome  tabacco- 
takers,  or  the  third  noftrill,  (if  I  may  fo  call  it)  which 
makes,  that  they  can  vent  the  tabacco  out,  like  the  Ace  of 
clubs,  or  rather  the  Flower-de-lice,  is  caufed  from  the 
tabacco,  the  meere  tabacco!  when  the  poore  innocent  pox, 

4    a  kinnne]  a-kin  i6g2,  1716,  IV,  G  9    Indian's  lyid,  fV,  G 


35 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  49 

hauing  nothing  to  doe  there,  is  miferably,  and  moil  vncon- 
fcionably  flander'd. 

CoK.     Who  would  ha'mifl  this,  Sifter  ? 

Over.     Not  any  body,  but  Numps. 

CoK.     He  do's  not  vnderftand.  5 

EdG.       Nor  you  feele.  [Hee  picketh  his  purfe. 

CoK.  What  would  you  haue,  Sifter,  of  a  fellow  that 
knowes  nothing  but  a  basket-hilt,  and  an  old  Fox  in't  ? 
the  beft  mufique  i'the  Fayre,  will  not  moue  a  logge. 

Edg.      In,  to  Vrjla,  Nightingale,  and  carry  her  comfort:    10 
fee  it  told.     This  fellow  was  fent  to  vs  by  fortune,  for  our 
firft  fairing. 

Ivs.  But  what  fpeake  I  of  the  difeafes  of  the  body, 
children  of  the  Fayre  ? 

CoK.     That's  to  vs,  Sifter.     Braue  i'faith!  15 

Ivs.  Harke,  O,  you  fonnes  and  daughters  of  Smithfield! 
and  heare  what  mallady  it  doth  the  minde:  It  caufeth 
fwearing,  it  caufeth  fwaggering,  it  caufeth  fnuffling,  and 
fnarling,  and  now  and  then  a  hurt. 

OvE.     He  hath  fomething  of  Mafter  Ouerdoo,  mee  thinkes,    20 
brother. 

CoK.  So.  mee  thought,  Sifter,  very  much  of  my  brother 
Ouerdoo'.  And  'tis,  when  he  fpeakes. 

Ivs.  Looke  into  any  Angle  o'the  towne,  (the  Streights, 
or  the  Bermuda's)  where  the  quarrelling  leffon  is  read,  and  25 
how  doe  they  entertaine  the  time,  but  with  bottle-ale,  and 
tabacco?  The  Le6turer  is  o'one  fide,  and  his  Pupils  o'the 
other;  But  the  feconds  are  ftill  bottle-ale,  and  tabacco,  for 
which  the  Le6lurer  reads,  and  the  Nouices  pay.  Thirty 
pound  a  weeke  in  bottle-ale  !  forty  in  tabacco !  and  ten  30 
more  in  Ale  againe.  Then  for  a  fute  to  drinke  in,  fo  much, 
and  (that  being  flauer'd)  fo  much  for  another  fute,  and  then 
a  third  fute,  and  a  fourth  fute  !  and  ftill  the  bottle-ale 
flauereth,  and  the  tabacco  ftinketh  ! 

Was.    Heart  of  a  mad-man  !  are  you  rooted  heere  ?  well   35 
you  neuer  away  ?  what  can  any  man  finde  out  in  this  bawl-   [30] 
35    well]  Will  i6<)2,  J716,  W,  G 


50  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

ing  fellow,  to  grow  heere  for  ?  hee  is  a  full  handfull  higher, 
fin'he  heard  him,  will  you  fix  heere  ?  and  fet  vp  a  Booth  ? 
Sir? 

Ivs.  I  will  conclude  briefely — 
5  Was.  Hold  your  peace,  you  roaring  Rafcall,  I'le  runne 
my  head  i'your  chaps  elfe.  You  were  bell  build  a  Booth, 
and  entertaine  him,  make  your  Will,  and  you  fay  the  word, 
and  him  your  heyre  !  heart,  I  neuer  knew  one  taken  with 
a  mouth  of  a  pecke,  afore.  By  this  light.  Tie  carry  you 
lo   away  o'my  backe,  and  you  will  not  come.  {He  gets  him 

vp  on  pick-packe. 

CoK.     Stay  Numpes^  flay,  fet  mee  downe :    I  ha'loft  my 
purfe,  NumpSy  O  my  purfe !  one  o'my  fine  purfes  is  gone. 

Over.     Is't  indeed,  brother? 

CoK.     I,  as  I  am  an  honefl  man,  would  I  were  an  errant 
15    Rogue,  elfe!  a  plague  of  all  roguy,  damn'd  cut-purfes  for 
me. 

Was.  Bleffe  'hem  with  all  my  heart,  with  all  my  heart, 
do  you  fee!  Now,  as  I  am  no  Infidell,  that  I  know  of,  I 
am  glad  on't.  I  I  am,  (here's  my  witnefTe !)  doe  you  fee.  Sir  ? 
20  I  did  not  tell  you  of  his  fables,  I  ?  no,  no,  I  am  a  dull  malt- 
horfe,  I,  I  know  nothing.  Are  you  not  iuflly  feru'd  i'your 
confcience  now?  fpeake  i'your  confcience.  Much  good 
doe  you  with  all  my  heart,  and  his  good  heart  that  has  it, 
with  all  my  heart  againe. 
25  Edg.  This  fellow  is  very  charitable,  would  he  had  a 
purfe  too!  but,  I  mufl  not  be  too  bold,  all  at  a  time, 

CoK.     Nay,  Numps^  it  is  not  my  befl  purfe. 

Was.     Not  your  befl!   death!   why  fhould  it  be  your 
worfl  ?  why  fhould  it  be  any,  indeed,  at  all  ?  anfwer  me  to 
20  that,  gi'mee  a  reafon  from  you,  why  it  fhould  be  any  ? 

CoK.     Nor  my  gold,  Numps',  I  ha'that  yet,  looke  heere 
elfe,  Sifter. 

Was.     Why  fo,  there's  all  the  feeling  he  has ! 

Over.     I  pray  you,  haue  a  better  care  of  that,  brother. 
oc        CoK.     Nay,  fo  I  will,  I  warrant  you;  let  him  catch  this, 
that  catch  can.     I  would  faine  fee  him  get  this,  looke  you 
heere. 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  51 

Was.     So,  fo,  fo,  fo,  fo,  fo,  fo,  fo!     Very  good. 

CoK.      I  would  ha'him  come  againe,  now,  and  but  offer 
at  it.     Sifter,  will  you  take  notice  of  a  good  left  ?     I  will 
put  it  iuft  where  th'other  was,  and  if  we  ha'good  lucke, 
you  fhall  fee  a  delicate  fine  trap  to  catch  the  cutpurfe,     5 
nibling. 

Edg.     Faith,  and  he'll  trye  ere  you  be  out  o'the  Fayre. 

CoK.  Come,  Miftreffe  Grace,  pre'thee  be  not  melancholy 
for  my  mif-chance;  forrow  wi'not  keepe  it,  Sweetheart. 

Gra.     I  do  not  thinke  on't.  Sir.  10 

Cook.  'Twas  but  a  little  fcuruy  white  money,  hang  it: 
it  may  hang  the  cutpurfe,  one  day.  I  ha'gold  left  to 
gi'thee  a  fayring,  yet,  as  hard  as  the  world  goes:  nothing 
angers  me,  but  that  no  body  heere,  look'd  like  a  cutpurfe, 
vnleffe  'twere  Numps.  15 

Was.     How  ?    I  ?    I  looke  like  a  cutpurfe  ?  death !  your  [13] 
Sifter's  a  cutpurfe!  and  your  mother  and  father,  and  all 
your  kinne  were  cutpurfes!     And  here  is  a  Rogue  is  the 
baud  o'the  cutpurfes,  whom  I  will  beat  to  begin  with. 

[  They  fpeake  all  together :  and  Wafpe  ieats  the  Inftice. 
CoK.     Numps,  Numps.  20 

Over.     Good  M'"  Humphrey. 

[Ivs.     Hold  thy  hand,  childe  of  wrath,  and 

heyre  of  anger,  make  it  not  Childermaffe  day 

in  thy  fury,  or  the  feaft  of  the  French  Bar- 

tholmew,  Parent  of  the  of  the  Maffacre.  25 

Was.     You  are  the  Patrico\  are  you?  the  Patriarch  of 

the  cutpurfes  ?  you  fhare,  Sir,  they  fay,  let  them  ftiare  this 

with  you.     Are  you  i'your  hot  fit  of  preaching  againe? 

rie  coole  you. 

Ivs.      Murther,  murther,  murther.  30 

16    [13]  error  for  [31]. 
25    Parent  of  the  of  the]  Parent  of  the  j6g2,  1716,  W,  G 


52  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 


Act.  III.      Scene.  I. 

Whit.     Haggise.     Bristle.     Leather- 
head.     Trash. 

"VTAy,  tifh  all  gone,  now!  difh  tifh,  phen  tou  vilt  not  be 

phitin  call,  Mafler  Ofiifher,  phat  ifh  a  man  te  better 

to  lifhen  out  noyfhes  for  tee,  &  tou  art  in  an  oder 

'orld,  being  very  fhuffiftiient  noyfhes  and  gallantlh  too,  one 

5    o'their  brabblefh  woud  haue  fed  vfh  all  difh  fortnight,  but 

tou  art  so  bufhy  about  beggerfh  ftil,  tou  hafl  no  lefhure  to 

intend  fhentlemen,  and't  be. 

Hag.     Why,  I  told  you,  Dauy  Brijlle. 

Bri.     Come,  come,  you  told  mee  a  pudding,  Toby  Hag- 

lo  gife\  A  matter  of  nothing;  I  am  fure  it  came  to  nothing! 

you  faid,  let's  goe  to  Vrjla's^  indeede;  but  then  you  met  the 

[32]   man  with  the  monflers,  and  I  could  not  get  you  from  him. 

An  old  foole,  not  leaue  feeing  yet? 

Hag.     Why,  who  would  ha'thought  any  body  would  ha' 
15   quarrell'd  fo  earely?  or  that  the  ale  o'the  Fayre  would  ha' 
beene  vp  fo  foone. 

Whi.     Phy  ?  phat  a  clocke  toefl  tou  tinke  it  ifh,  man  ? 
Hag.     I  cannot  tell. 

Whi.     Tou  art  a  vifhe  vatchman,  i'te  meane  teeme. 
20        Hag.     Why  ?  fhould  the  watch  goe  by  the  clocke,  or  the 
clock  by  the  watch,  I  pray  ? 

Bri.      One  fhould  goe  by  another,  if  they  did  well. 
Whi.     Tou  art  right  now  ?  phen  didfl  tou  euer  know,  or 
heare  of  a  fhuffifhient  vatchman,  but  he  did  tell  the  clocke, 
25    phat  bufhineffe  foeuer  he  had  ? 

Bri.      Nay,    that's    mofl    true,    a    fufficient    watchman 
knowes  what  aclocke  it  is. 

Whi.     Shleeping,  or  vaking!  afh  well  as  te  clocke  him- 
Ihelfe,  or  te  lack  dat  Ihtrikes  him ! 

G  makes  but  one  scene  of  Act  III. 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  53 

Bri.  Let's  enquire  of  Mailer  Leatherhead^  or  lone  Trajh 
heere.  Mafler  Leatherhead,  doe  you  heare,  Mailer  Leather- 
head  t 

Whi.  If  it  be  a  Ledderhead,  tifh  a  very  tick  Ledder- 
head,  tat  fho  mufh  noifh  vill  not  peirfh  him.  5 

Lea.  I  haue  a  little  bufineffe  now,  good  friends  doe 
not  trouble  me. 

Whi.     Phat  ?  becaufe  o'ty  wrought  neet   cap,    and   ty 
pheluet  fherkin,  Man  ?  phy  ?     I  haue  (heene  tee  in  ty  Led- 
der  fherkin,  ere  now,  Mafhter  o'de  hobby-Horfes,  as  bufhy   10 
and  as  (lately  as  tou  fheem'fl  to  be. 

Tra.  Why,  what  an'  you  haue,  Captaine  Whit}  hee  has 
his  choyce  of  lerkins,  you  may  fee  by  that,  and  his  caps 
too,  I  affure  you,  when  hee  pleafes  to  be  either  ficke,  or 
imploy'd.  i^ 

Lea.     God  a  mercy  lone^  anfwer  for  me. 

Whi.  Away,  be  not  fheen  i'my  company,  here  be  Ihen- 
tlemen,  and  men  of  vorfhip. 


Act.  III.      Scene.  II. 
QvARLOvs.     Whit.     Win-wife.     Bvsy.      Iohn. 

PVRE-CRAFT.       WiN.       KnOK-HVM.       MoON- 
CALFE.       VrSLA. 

TT^TT'Ee  had  wonderfull  ill  lucke,  to  miffe  this  prologue 

o'the  purfe,  but  the  befl  is,   we  (hall  haue  fiue  20 
A^s  of  him   ere  night:  hee'le  be  fpedlacle  enough!    I'le 
anfwer  for't. 

Whi.     O  Creelh!  Duke  Quarlous^  how  do(ht  tou?  tou  [33] 
do(ht  not  know  me,   I  f eare  ?     I  am  te  vifhefht  man, » but 
ludifh    Ouerdoo^    in    all    Barthobnew   Fayre^    now.       Gi'me   25 
tweluepence  from  tee,  I  vill  help  tee  to  a  vife  vorth  forty 
marks  for't,  and't  be. 

II    and  as  flately]  and  stately  ijib,  W,  G 


54  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

QvAR.     Away,  Rogue,  Pimpe  away. 

Whi.     And  fhee  fhall  fhew  tee  as  fine  cut  o'rke  fort't  in 
her  flimock  too,  as  tou  canfht  vifhe  i'faith;  vilt  tou  haue 
her,  vorfhipfuU  Vin-vife  ?     I  vill  helpe  tee  to  her,  heere,  be 
5   an't  be,  in  te  pig-quarter,  gi'me  ty  twelpence  from  tee, 

WiN-w.     Why,  there's  twelpence,  pray  thee  wilt  thou  be 
gone. 

Whi,     Tou  art  a  vorthy  man,   and  a  vorfhipfuU   man 
flill. 
lo       QvAR.     Get  you  gone,  Rafcall. 

Whi.     I   doe  meane  it,    man.      Prinfh   Quarlous  if  tou 
hafht  need  on  me,  tou  fhalt  finde  me  heere,  at  Vrjla's^  I 
vill  fee  phat  ale,  and  punque  ifh  i'te  pigfhty,  for  tee,  bleffe 
ty  good  vorfhip. 
15        QvAR.     Looke!  who  comes  heere!  John  Little-wit  \ 

WiN-w.     And  his  wife,  and  my  widdow,   her  mother: 
the  whole  family. 

QvAR.     'Slight,  you  mufl  gi'hem  all  fairings,  now! 

WiN-w.     Not  I,  rie  not  fee  'hem, 
20       QvAR.     They  are  going  a  feafling.     What  Schole-maf- 
ter's  that  is  with  'hem  ? 

WiN-w.     That's  my  Riuall,  I  beleeue,  the  Baker! 

Bvs.     So,  walke  on  in  the  middle  way,  fore-right,  turne 
neyther  to  the   right  hand,  nor  to  the  left:  let  not  your 
25    eyes  be  drawn e  afide  with  vanity,    nor  your  eare  with 
noyfes. 

QvAR.     O,  I  know  him  by  that  ftart! 

Lea.     What    do   you    lack?  what    do  you  buy,    pretty 

Miflris!  a  fine  Hobby-Horfe,  to  make  your  fonne  a  Tilter  ? 

20   a  Drum  to  make  him  a  Souldier  ?  a  Fiddle,  to  make  him 

a  Reueller  ?     What  is't  you  lack  ?     Little  Dogs  for  your 

Daughters!  or  Babies,  male,  or  female? 

Bvs.     Look  not  toward  them,  harken  not :  the  place  is 

Smithfield^    or  the  field  of  Smiths,   the  Groue  of  Hobbi- 

25    horfes  and  trinkets,  the  wares  are  the   wares   of  diuels. 

And  the  whole  Fayre  is  the  fhop   of  Satan  !     They  are 

5  in  te]  into  idgs,  1716,  W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  55 

hooks,  and  baites,  very  baites,  that  are  hung  out  on  euery 
fide,  to  catch  you,  and  to  hold  you  as  it  were,  by  the  gills ; 
and  by  the  noflrills,  as  the  Fifher  doth:  therfore,  you 
mull  not  looke,  nor  turne  toward  them — The  Heathen 
man  could  flop  his  eares  with  wax,  againfl  the  harlot  o'the  5 
fea:  Doe  you  the  like,  with  your  fingers  againft  the  bells 
of  the  Beall. 

WiN-w.     What  flafhes  comes  from  him ! 

QvAR.     O,    he  has   thofe   of  his   ouen!    a  notable   hot 
Baker  'twas,  when  hee  ply'd  the  peele:  hee  is  leading  his    lo 
flocke  into  the  Fayre,  now. 

WiN-w.  Rather  driuing  'hem  to  the  Pens:  for  he  will 
let  'hem  looke  vpon  nothing. 

Kno.     Gentlewomen,  the  weather's  hot!  whither  walke 

you  ?      [Little-wit  is  gazing  at  the  figne  ;  which  is  the  Pigs -head  with  a    1 5 

large  writing  vnder  it.]  Haue  a  care  o'your  fine  veluet  caps,  [34] 
the  Fayre  is  dufty.  Take  a  fweet  delicate  Booth,  with 
boughs,  here,  ithe  way,  and  coole  your  felues  i'the  Ihade: 
you  and  your  friends.  The  befl  pig  and  bottle-ale  i'the 
Fayre,  Sir.  Old  Vrjla  is  Cooke,  there  you  may  read:  the  20 
pigges  head  fpeakes  it.  Poore  foule,  Ihee  has  had  a 
Sringhalt,  the  Maryhinchco:  but  Ihee's  prettily  amended. 

Whi.     a  delicate  Ihow-pig,   little  Millris,   with  Ihweet 
fauce,   and  crackling,  like  de  bay-leaf e  i'de  fire,  la!     Tou 
fhalt  ha'de  cleane  fide  o'de  table-clot  and  di  glafTvalh'd   25 
with  phaterfh  of  Dame  AnnesJIi  Clear e. 

loH.  This's  fine,  verily,  here  be  the  befl  pigs:  and  fhee 
doe's  roafi.  'hem  as  well  as  euer  fiie  did ;  the  Pigs  head 
fayes. 

Kno.      Excellent,  excellent,  Mifi^ris,  with  fire  o'luniper  30 
and  Rofemary  branches!     The  Oracle  of  the  Pigs  head, 
that,  Sir. 

PvR.  Sonne,  were  you  not  warn'd  of  the  vanity  of  the 
eye  ?  haue  you  forgot  the  wholefome  admonition,  fo 
foone  ?  35 

7    of  the]  o'the  i6g2,  17/6,  W  8    comes]  come  1716,  W,  G 


56  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

loH.     Good  mother,  how  (hall  we  finde  a  pigge,  if  we 

doe  not  looke  about  for't  ?  will  it  run  off  o'the  fpit,  into 

our  mouths  thinke  you?  as  in  Lubberlandl  and  cry,  we^ 

we  ? 

5        Bvs.    No,  but  your  mother,  religioufly  wife,  conceiueth  it 

may  offer  it  felfe,  by  other  meanes,  to  the  fenfe,  as  by  way 

of  (leeme,  which  I  thinke  it  doth,  here  in  this  place  (Huh, 

huh)  [Bufy/m/j  after  it  like  a  Hound.']  yes,  it  doth.  and  it  were 

a  finne  of  obflinacy,  great  obflinacy,  high  and  horrible 

lo   obflinacy,  to  decline,  or  refifl  the  good  titillation  of  the 

famelick  fenfe,   which  is  the  fmell.     Therefore   be   bold 

(huh,  huh,  huh)  follow  the  fent.     Enter  the  Tents  of  the 

vncleane,  for  once,  and  fatisfie  your  wiues  frailty.     Let 

your  fraile  wife  be  fatisfied:  your  zealous  mother,  and  my 

15   fuffering  felfe,  will  alfo  be  fatisfied. 

loH,     Come,   Win,  as  good  winny  here,  as  goe  farther, 
and  fee  nothing. 

Bvs.     Wee  fcape  fo  much  of  the  other  vanities,  by  our 
earely  entring. 
20       PvR.     It  is  an  aedifying  confideration. 

Win.     This  is  fcuruy,  that  wee  mufl  come  into  the  Fayre^ 
and  not  looke  on't. 

loH.     Win,  haue  patience.  Win,  Tie  tell  you  more  anon. 

Kno.     Moone-calfe,  entertaine  within  there,  the  bell  pig 
25   i'the  Booth;    a  Porklike  pig.     Thefe  are  Banbury -bloods^ 
o'the  fmcere  flud,  come  a  pigge-hunting.     Whit,  wait  Whit^ 
looke  to  your  charge. 

Bvs.     A  pigge  prepare,  prefently,  let  a  pigge  be  pre- 
pared to  vs. 
30       Moo.     S'light,  who  be  thefe  ? 

Vrs.     Is  this  the  good  feruice,  Jordan,  you'ld  doe  me  ? 

Kno.  Why,  Vrs  ?  why,  Vrs  ?  thou'lt  ha'vapours  i'thy 
legge  againe  prefently,  pray  thee  go  in,  'tmay  turne  to 
the  fcratches  elfe. 
[35]  ^^^'  M^^g^  your  vapours,  they  are  flale  and  (linke  like 
you,  are  thefe  the  guefls  o'the  game,  you  promis'd  to  fill 
my  pit  withall,  to  day  ? 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  57 

Kno.     I,  what  aile  they  Vrs  ? 

Vrs.  Aile  they  ?  they  are  all  fippers,  fippers  o'the  City, 
they  looke  as  they  would  not  drinke  off  two  penn'orth  of 
bottle-ale  amongfl  'hem. 

Moo.     A  body  may  read  that  i'their  fmall  printed  ruffes.      5 

Kno.  Away,  thou  art  a  foole,  Vrs,  and  thy  Moone-calfe 
too,  i'your  ignorant  vapours,  now  ?  hence,  good  guefls,  I 
fay  right  hypocrites,  good  gluttons.  In,  and  fet  a  couple 
o'pigs  o'the  board,  and  halfe  a  dozen  of  the  biggefl  bottles 
afore  'hem,  and  call  Whit,  I  doe  not  loue  to  heare  Inno-  10 
cents  abus'd:  Fine  ambling  hypocrites!  and  a  flone- 
puritane,  with  a  forrell  head,  and  beard,  good  mouth'd 
gluttons :  two  to  a  pigge,  away. 

Vrs.     Are  you  fure  they  are  fuch  ?  , 

Kno.     O'the  right  breed,  thou  fhalt  try  'hem  by  the  teeth,    15 
Vrs,  where's  this  Whit  ? 

Whi.     Behold,  man  and  fee,  what  a  tvorthy  man  am  ee  ! 
With  the  fury  of  my  f word,  and  the  fhaking  of  my  beard, 
I  will  make  ten  thoufand  men  afeard. 

Kno.     Well  faid,  braue  Whit,  in,  and  feare  the  ale  out   20 
o'the  bottles,   into  the  bellies    of   the   brethren,   and  the 
fillers  drinke  to  the  caufe,  and  pure  vapours. 

QvAR.      My  Roarer  is  turn'd  Tapfler,  mee  thinks.   Now 
were  a  fine  time  for  thee,  Win-wife,  to  lay  aboard  thy  wid- 
dow,  thou'lt  neuer  be  Mafler  of  a  better  feafon,  or  place;    25 
fhee  that  will  venture  her  felfe  into  the  Fayre,  and  a  pig- 
boxe,  will  admit  any  affault,  be  affur'd  of  that. 

Win.      I  loue  not  enterprifes  of  that  fuddeneffe,  though. 

QvAR.  rie  warrant  thee,  then,  no  wife  out  o'the  wid- 
dowes  Hundred:  if  I  had  but  as  much  Title  to  her,  as  to  30 
haue  breath'd  once  on  that  flreight  (lomacher  of  hers,  I 
would  now  affure  my  felfe  to  carry  her,  yet,  ere  fhe  went 
out  of  Smithfield.  Or  fhe  fhould  carry  me,  which  were  the 
fitter  fight,  I  confeffe.     But  you  are  a  modefl  vndertaker, 

7    now?]  now:  i6g2,  1716,   W :  now!     G 
21     G  suggests  that  see  that  be  supplied  between  and  and  the. 
25    be  Mafler]  be  a  Master  i6g2^  lyid 


5 8  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

by  circumflances,  and  degrees;  come,  'tis  Difeafe  in  thee, 
not  ludgement,  I  fhould  offer  at  all  together.  Looke, 
here's  the  poore  foole,  againe,  that  was  flung  by  the  wafpe, 
ere  while. 


[36]  Act.  III.      Scene.  III. 

IvsTicE.     Win-wife.     Qvarlovs. 

5    T  will  make  no  more  orations,   fhall  draw  on  thefe  tragi- 

call  conclufions.     And  I  begin  now  to  thinke,  that  by 

a  fpice  of  collaterall  luflice,  Adam  Ouerdoo^  deferu'd  this 

beating ;    for  I  the  faid  Adam^  was  one  caufe  (a  by-caufe) 

why  the  purfe  was  lofl :  and  my  wiues  brothers  purfe  too, 

10  which  they  know  not  of  yet.  But  I  fhall  make  very  good 
mirth  with  it,  at  fupper,  (that  will  be  the  fport)  and  put 
my  little  friend,  M'^  Humphrey  Waffs  choler  quite  out  of 
countenance.  When,  fitting  at  the  vpper  end  o'my  Table, 
as  I  vfe,  &  drinking  to  my  brother  Cokes,   and   M"^^.   Alice 

15  Ouerdoo,  as  I  wil,  my  wife,  for  their  good  affe6lio  to  old 
Bradley,  I  deliuer  to  'hem,  it  was  I,  that  was  cudgell'd,  and 
fhew  'hem  the  marks.  To  fee  what  bad  euents  may  peepe 
out  o'the  taile  of  good  purpofes !  the  care  I  had  of  that 
ciuil  yong  man,  I  tooke  fancy  to  this  morning,  (and  haue 

20  not  left  it  yet)  drew  me  to  that  exhortation,  which  drew 
the  company,  indeede,  which  drew  the  cut-purfe;  which 
drew  the  money;  which  drew  my  brother  Cokes  his  loffe; 
which  drew  on  Wafp's  anger;  which  drew  on  my  beating: 
a  pretty  gradation !    And  they  fhall  ha'it  i'their  difh,  i'faith, 

25  at  night  for  fruit:  I  loue  to  be  merry  at  my  Table.  I  had 
thought  once,  at  one  fpeciall  blow  he  ga'me,  to  haue 
reuealed  my  felfe  ?  but  then  (I  thank  thee  fortitude)  I 
remembred  that  a  wife,  man  (and  who  is  euer  fo  great  a 

27    my  felfe  followed  by  a  semicolon  i6g2,  jyi6,   Wy  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  59 

part,  o'the  Commonwealth  in  himfelfe)  for  no  particular 
difafler  ought  to  abandon  a  publike"  good  defigne.  The 
husbandman  ought  not  for  one  vnthankful  yeer,  to  for- 
fake  the  plough;  The  Shepheard  ought  not,  for  one 
fcabb'd  (heep,  to  throw  by  his  tar-boxe;  The  Pilot  ought  5 
not  for  one  leake  i'the  poope,  to  quit  the  Helme;  Nor 
the  Alderman  ought  not  for  one  cuflerd  more,  at  a  meale, 
to  giue  vp  his  cloake;  The  Conflable  ought  not  to  breake 
his  ftafife,  and  forfweare  the  watch,  for  one  roaring  night ; 
Kor  the  Piper  o'the  Parifli  (Vt  paruis  componere  magna  10 
folebani)  to  put  vp  his  pipes,  for  one  rainy  Sunday.  Thefe 
are  certaine  knocking  conclufions;  out  of  which,  I  am 
refolu'd,  come  what  come  can,  come  beating,  come 
imprifonment,  come  infamy,  come  banifhment,  nay,  come 
the  rack,  come  the  hurdle,  (welcome  all)  I  will  not  dif-  15 
couer  who  I  am,  till  my  due  time;  and  yet  flill,  all  fhall 
be,  as  I  faid  euer,  in  luflice  name,  and  the  King's,  and  for 
the  Common-wealth. 

Win.     What  doe's  he  talke  to  himfelfe,  and  a(5l  fo  feri-   [37] 
oufly?  poore  foole!  20 

QvAR.      No    matter   what.       Here's   frefher   argument, 
intend  that. 


Act.  III.      Scene.  IIIJ. 
Cokes.     Leatherhead.    VVaspe.     MiftreiTe 

OVERDOO.      WiN-VVIFE.       QvARLOVS. 

Trash.     Grace. 

/^Ome,   Miftreffe  Grace^  come  Sifter,   heere's  more  fine 
^^     fights,  yet  i'faith.     Gods'lid  where's  Numps  ? 

Lea.     What  doe  you  lacke.  Gentlemen  ?  what  is't  you   25 
buy?    fine  Rattles!    Drummes  ?    Babies?    little  Dogges  ? 
and  Birds  for  Ladies  ?     What  doe  you  lacke  ? 


6o  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

CoK.  Good  honefl  Numpes^  keepe  afore,  I  am  fo  afraid 
thou'It  lofe  fomewhat:  my  heart  was  at  my  mouth,  when 
I  mifl  thee. 

Was.     You  were  befl  buy  a  whip  i'your  hand  to  driue 
5   me. 

CoK.  Nay,  doe  not  miflake,  Numps^  thou  art  fo  apt  to 
miflake:  I  would  but  watch  the  goods.  Looke  you  now, 
the  treble  fiddle,  was  e'en  almofl  like  to  be  lofl. 

Was.     Pray  you  take  heede  you  lofe  not  your  felfe: 
lo  your  befl  way,  were  e'en  get  vp,  and  ride  for  more  furety. 
Buy  a  tokens  worth  of  great  pinnes,  to  faflen  your  felfe 
to  my  fhoulder. 

Lea.     What  doe  you  lacke,    Gentlemen  ?    fine  purfes, 
pouches,  pincafes,  pipes  ?     What  is't  you  lacke  ?    a  paire 
15    o'fmithes  to  wake  you  i'the  morning  ?  or  a  fine  whiflling 
bird? 

CoK.  Numps^  here  be  finer  things  then  any  we  ha'bought 
by  oddes!  and  more  delicate  horfes,  a  great  deale!  good 
Numpes,  flay,  and  come  hither. 
20  Was.  Will  you  fcourfe  with  him  ?  you  are  in  S^nithfield^ 
you  may  fit  your  felfe  with  a  fine  eafy-going  flreet-nag, 
for  your  faddle  again'  Michaelmaffe-terme^  doe,  has  he  ne'er 
a  little  odde  cart  for  you,  to  make  a  Carroch  on,  i'the 
countrey,  with  f oure  pyed  hobbyhorfes  ?  why  the  meazills, 
25  fhould  you  fland  heere,  with  your  traine,  cheaping  of 
Dogges,  Birds,  and  Babies  ?  you  ha'no  children  to  beflow 
'hem  on  ?     ha'you  ? 

CoK.     No,  but  again'  I  ha'children,  Numps^  that's  allone. 

Was.     Do,  do,  do,  do;  how  many  fhall  you  haue,  think 

30  you  ?  an,'  I  were  as  you,  I'M  buy  for  all  my  Tenants,  too, 

they  are  a  kind  o'ciuill  Sauages,  that  wil  part  with  their 

children  for  rattles,  pipes,  and  kniues.     You  were  befl  buy 

a  hatchet,  or  two,  &  truck  with  'hem. 

[38]        CoK.     Good  NumpSy  hold  that  little  tongue  o'thine,  and 

35   faue  it  a  labour.     I  am  refolute  J3af^  thou  know'fl. 

Was.  a  refolute  foole,  you  are,  I  know,  and  a  very 
fufficient  Coxcombe;  with  all  my  heart;  nay  you  haue  it, 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  6 1 

Sir,  and  you  be  angry,  turd  i'your  teeth,  twice:   (if  I  faid 
it  not  once  afore)  and  much  good  doe  you. 

Win.  Was  there  euer  fuch  a  felfe-afflidlion  ?  and  fo 
impertinent  ? 

QvAR.     Alas!   his  care  will  goe  neere  to  cracke  him,    5 
let's  in,  and  comfort  him. 

Was.  Would  I  had  beene  fet  i'the  ground,  all  but  the 
head  on  me,  and  had  my  braines  bowl'd  at,  or  threlh'd 
out,  when  firfl  I  vnderwent  this  plague  of  a  charge! 

QvAR.     How  now,  Numps\  almoll  tir'd  i'your  Protedlor-   10 
fhip  ?  ouerparted  ?  ouerparted  ? 

Was.  Why,  I  cannot  tell,  Sir,  it  may  be  I  am,  dos't 
grieue  you  ? 

Qvar.     No,  I  fweare  dos't  not,  Numps-,  to  fatisfie  you. 

Was.     Numpsi     S'blood,    you   are   fine    and   familiar!    15 
how  long  ha'wee  bin  acquainted,  I  pray  you  ? 

Qvar.  I  thinke  it  may  be  remembred,  Numps^  that  ? 
'twas  fince  morning  fure. 

Was.  Why,  I  hope  I  know't  well  enough.  Sir,  I  did 
not  aske  to  be  told.  20 

Qvar.      No  ?   why  then  ? 

Was.  It's  no  matter  why,  you  fee  with  your  eyes,  now, 
what  I  faid  to  you  to  day  ?  you'll  beleeue  me  another 
time  ? 

Qvar.     Are  you  remouing  the  Fayre,  Numps  ?  25 

Was.  a  pretty  queflion!  and  a  very  ciuill  one!  yes 
faith,  I  ha'my  lading  you  fee;  or  fhall  haue  anon,  you  may 
know  whofe  beafl  I  am,  by  my  burthen.  If  the  pannier- 
mans  lacke  were  euer  better  knowne  by  his  loynes  of 
mutton,  I'le  be  flead,  and  feede  dogs  for  him,  when  his  30 
time  comes. 

Win.  How  melancholi'  Miflreffe  Grace  is  yonder!  pray 
thee  let's  goe  enter  our  felues  in  Grace,  with  her. 

CoK,     Thofe  fixe  horfes,  friend  I'le  haue — 

Was.      How!  35 

30    flead]  flayed  G 


62  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

CoK.  And  the  three  lewes  trumps;  and  halfe  a  dozen 
o'Birds,  and  that  Drum,  (I  haue  one  Drumme  already) 
and  your  Smiths;  I  like  that  deuice  o'your  fmiths,  very 
pretty  well,  and  four  Halberts — and  (le'me  fee)  that  fine 
5  painted  great  Lady,  and  her  three  women  for  flate,  I'le 
haue. 

Was.     No,  the  fhop;  buy  the  whole  fhop,  it  will  be  befl, 
the  fhop,  the  fhop! 

Lea.     If  his  worfhip  pleafe. 
lo       Was.     Yes,  and  keepe  it  during  the  Fayre,  Bobchin., 

CoK.     Peace,  Numps,  friend,  doe  not  meddle  with  him, 
[39]   an' you  be  wife,  and  would  fhew  your  head  aboue  board: 
hee  will  fting  thorow  your  wrought  night-cap,  beleeue  me. 
A  fet  of  thefe  Violines,  I  would  buy  too,  for  a  delicate 
15   young  noife  I  haue  i'the  countrey,  that  are  euery  one  a  fize 
leffe  then  another,  iufl  like  your  fiddles.      I  would  faine 
haue  a  fine  young  Mafque  at  my  marriage,  now  I  thinke 
on't:  but  I  doe  want  fuch  a  number  o'things.     And  JVumps 
will  not  helpe  me  now,  and  I  dare  not  fpeake  to  him. 
20       Tra.     Will  your  worfhip  buy  any  ginger-bread,   very 
good  bread,  comfortable  bread  ? 
CoK.     Ginger-bread!  yes,  let's  fee. 

[^He  runnes  to  her  Jhop. 
Was.     There's  the  tother  fprindge  ? 

Lea.     Is  this  well,  goody  lone  ?  to  interrupt  my  market  ? 
25    in  the  midfl?  and  call  away  my  cuflomers  ?  can  you  anfwer 
this,  at  the  Piepouldres  ? 

Tra.     Why  ?  if  his  Mafler-fhip  haue  a  minde  to  buy,  I 
hope  my  ware  lies  as  open  as  another's ;  I  may  fhew  my 
ware,  as  well  as  you  yours. 
30        CoK.      Hold  your  peace;  I'le  content  you  both:  I'le  buy 
vp  his  fhop,  and  thy  basket. 
Was.     Will  you  i'faith  ? 

Lea.      Why  fhould  you  put  him  from  it,  friend  ? 
Was.      Cry  you  mercy!  you'ld  be  fold  too,  would  you  ? 
35    what's  the  prjice  on  you  ?   lerkin,  and  all  as  you  fland  ? 
ha'you  any  qualities  ? 

II    Numps,]  Numps,  j6g2,  1716,  IV :  Numps. —  G 
27    haue]  has  1716,   W,  G 


Of 

Bartholmevv  Fayre.  6^ 

Tra.     Yes,  good-man  angry-man,  you  fhall  finde  he  has 
qualities,  if  you  cheapen  him. 

Was.     Gods  fo,   you  ha'the  felling  of  him!    what  are 
they  ?  will  they  be  bought  for  loue,  or  money  ? 

Tra.     No  indeed,  Sir.  5 

Was.     For  what  then  ?  vi6lualls  ? 

Tra.  He  fcornes  vidluals,  Sir,  he  has  bread  and  butter 
at  home,  thanks  be  to  God!  and  yet  he  will  do  more  for 
a  good  meale,  if  the  toy  take  him  i'the  belly,  mary  then 
they  mull  not  fet  him  at  lower  end;  if  they  do,  he'll  goe  10 
away,  though  he  fafl.  But  put  him  a  top  o'the  Table, 
where  his  place  is,  and  hee'll  doe  you  forty  fine  things. 
Hee  has  not  been  fent  for,  and  fought  out  for  nothing,  at 
your  great  citty-fuppers,  to  put  downe  Coriat^  and  Cokeley^ 
and  bin  laught  kt  for  his  labour;  he'll  play  you  all  the  15 
Puppets  i'the  towne  ouer,  and  the  Players,  euery  company, 
and  his  owne  company  too;  he  fpares  no  body! 

CoK.     I'faith  ? 

Tra.     Hee  was  the  firfl.  Sir,  that  euer  baited  the  fellow 
i'the  beare's  skin,   an't  like  your  worfhip:    no  dog  euer   20 
came  neer  him,  fince.     And  for  fine  motions! 

CoK.     Is  hee  good  at  thofe  too  ?  can  hee  fet  out  a  Mafque 
trow  ? 

Tra.     O  Lord,  Mafler!  fought  to  farre,  and  neere,  for 
his  inuentions:  and  hee  engroffes  all,  hee  makes  all  the  [40] 
Puppets  i'the  Fayre. 

CoK.     Do'fl  thou  (in  troth)  old  veluet  lerkin  ?  giue  mee 
thy  hand. 

Tra.     Nay,  Sir,  you  fhall  fee  him  in  his  veluet  lerkin, 
and  a  fcarfe,  too,  at  night,  when  you  heare  him  interpret  30 
Mailer  Little-wifs  Motion. 

CoK.  Speake  no  more,  but  fhut  vp  fhop  prefently, 
friend.  Tie  buy  both  it,  and  thee  too,  to  carry  downe 
with  me,  and  her  hamper,  befide.  Thy  (hop  ihall  furnifh 
out  the  Mafque,  and  hers  the  Banquet :  I  cannot  goe  lelTe,  35 
to  fet  out  any  thing  with  credit,  what's  the  price,  at  a 
word,  o'thy  whole  fliop,  cafe,  and  all  as  it  flands  ? 

10    end]  ends  i6g2, 1716,  W,  G 


64,  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Lea.  Sir,  it  (lands  me  in  fixe  and  twenty  ftiillings 
feuen  pence,  halfe-peny,  befides  three  fhillings  for  my 
ground. 

CoK.   Well,   thirty  fhillings   will    doe   all,   then!     And 
5   what  comes  yours  too  ? 

Tra.  Foure  fhillings,  and  eleauen  pence,  Sir,  ground, 
and  all,  an't  like  your  worfhip. 

CoK,  Yes,  it  do's  like  my  worfhip  very  well,  poore 
woman,  that's  fiue  fhillings  more,  what  a  Mafque  fhall  I 
lo  furnifti  out,  for  forty  fhillings  ?  (twenty  pound  fcotfh)  and 
a  Banquet  of  Ginger-bread  ?  there's  a  flately  thing!  Numps  ? 
Siller  ?  and  my  wedding  gloues  too  ?  (that  I  neuer  thought 
on  afore.)  All  my  wedding  gloues,  Ginger-bread?  O 
me!  what  a  deuice  will  there  be  ?  to  make  'hem  eate  their 
15  fingers  ends!  and  delicate  Brooches  for  the  Bride-men! 
and  all!  and  then  I'le  ha'this  poefie  put  to  'hem:  For  the 
bejl  grace,  meaning  Miflreffe  Grace,  my  wedding  poefie. 

Gra.     I  am  beholden  to  you.  Sir,  and  to  your  Barthol- 
mew-vf  it. 
20       Was.     You  doe  not  meane  this,  doe  you  ?  is  this  your 
firfl  purchafe  ? 

CoK.     Yes   faith,   and   I   doe   not  thinke,  Numpes,  but 
thou'lt  fay,  it  was  the  wifefl  A61,  that  euer  I  did  in  my 
wardfhip. 
25        Was.     Like  inough!  I  fhall  fay  any  thing.      I! 

10    fhillings  ?]  shillings,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  65 

Act.  III.      Scene.  V.  [41] 

IVSTICE.       EdGVVORTH.       NIGHTINGALE. 

T  Cannot  beget  a  Proieft^  with  all  my  politicall  braine, 
^  yet ;  my  Proie^  is  how  to  fetch  off  this  proper  young 
man,  from  his  debaucht  company :  I  haue  followed  him  all 
the  Fayre  ouer,  and  flill  I  finde  him  with  this  fongfler: 
And  I  begin  fhrewdly  to  fufpe(5l  their  familiarity;  and  the  5 
young  man  of  a  terrible  taint,  Poetry  !  with  which  idle 
difeafe,  if  he  be  infeded,  there's  no  hope  of  him,  in  a  flate-  ' 
courfe.  A^um  eft^  of  him  for  a  common-wealths-man :  if 
hce  goe  to't  in  Rime,  once. 

Edg.       Yonder   he   is    buying  o'Ginger-bread:     fet   in   lo 
quickly,  before  he  part  wirh  too  much  on  his  money. 

Nig.     My  majlers  and  fi-iends ^  and  good  people,  draw  neere, 

CoK.     Ballads  !  harke,  harke  !  pray  thee,  fellow,  flay  a 
little,  good  Numpes,  looke  to  the  goods.   \^He  runn'sto  the  Bal-  15 
lad  man.']    What  Ballads  hafl  thou  ?  let  me  fee,  let  me  fee  my 
felfe. 

Was.     Why  fo  !  hee's  flowne  to  another  lime-bulh,  there 
he  will  flutter  as  long  more;  till  hee  ha'ne'r  a  feather  left. 
Is  there  a  vexation  like  this.  Gentlemen  ?  will  you  beleeue  20 
mee  now,  hereafter  ?  fhall  I  haue  credit  with  you  ? 

QvAR.  Yes  faith,  fhalt  thou,  Numps,  and  thou  art  wor- 
thy on't,  for  thou  fweatefl  for't.  I  neuer  faw  a  young 
Pimpe  errant,  and  his  Squire  better  match'd. 

WiN-w.     Faith,  the  fifler  comes  after  'hem,  well,  too.        25 

Gra.  Nay,  if  you  faw  the  luflice  her  hufband,  my 
Guardian,  you  were  fitted  for  the  Meffe,  hee  is  fuch  a  wife 
one  his  way — 

WiN-w.     I  wonder,  wee  fee  him  not  heere. 

II    on]  of  i6g2,  17 16,   W,  G 


66  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Gra.  O  !  hee  is  too  ferious  for  this  place,  and  yet  bet- 
ter fport  then  then  the  other  three,  I  affure  you.  Gentle- 
men: where  ere  he  is,  though't  be  o'the  Bench. 

CoK.  How  doll  thou  call  it!  A  caueat  againfl  cut- 
5  purfes!  a  good  iefl,  i'faith,  I  would  faine  fee  that  DcEnion^ 
your  Cutpurfe,  you  talke  of,  that  delicate  handed  Diuell ; 
they  fay  he  walkes  hereabout ;  I  would  fee  him  walke,  now. 
Looke  you  fifler,  here,  here,  \He  Jhow' s  his purfe  boajlingly.l  let 
him  come,  fifler,  and  welcome.  Ballad-man,  do's  any  cut- 
lo  purfes  haunt  hereabout?  pray  thee  raife  me  one  or  two: 
beginne  and  fhew  me  one. 

Nig.     Sir,  this  is  a  fpell  againfl  'hem,  fpicke  and  fpan 
new;  and  'tis  made  as  'twere  in  mine  owne  perfon,  and  I 
[42]  fing  it  in   mine  owne  defence.     But  'twill  cofl  a  penny 
15  alone,  if  you  buy  it. 

CoK.  No  matter  for  the  price,  thou  doft  not  know  me, 
I  fee,  I  am  an  odd  Bartholmew. 

OvE.      Ha'll  a  fine  pidlure.  Brother  ? 
CoK.     O  Sifler,  doe  you  remember  the  ballads  ouer  the 
20  Nurfery-chimney  at  home  o'my  owne  pafling  vp,  there  be 
braue  pi6lures.     Other  manner  of    pi6tures,   than    thefe, 
friend. 

Was.     Yet  thefe  will  ferue  to  picke  the  pictures  out  o' 
your  pockets,  you  fhall  fee. 
25        CoK.     So,  I  heard  'hem  fay.      Pray  thee  mind  him  not, 
fellow:  hee'll  haue  an  oare  in  euery  thing. 

Nig.     It  was  intended  Sir,  as  if  a  purfe  fhould  chance 
to  be  cut  in  my  prefence,  now,  I  may  be  blameleffe,  though : 
as  by  the  fequell,  will  more  plainly  appeare. 
30       CoK.     We  fhall  find  that  i'the  matter.     Pray  thee  begin. 
Nig.     To  the  tune  of  Paggingtons  Pound^  Sir, 
CoK.     Fa^  la  la  la^  la  la  la^  fa  la  la  la.     Nay,  I'll  put  thee 
in  tune,  and  all!  mine  owne  country  dance!     Pray   thee 
begin.  ' 

35        Nig.     It  is  a  gentle  admonition,    you  muft  know.    Sir, 
both  to  the  purfe-cutter,  and  the  purfe-bearer. 

CoK.  Not  a  word  more,  out  o'the  tune,  an'  thou  lou'fl 
mee :     Fa^  la  la  la^  la  la  la^  fa  la  la  la.     Come,  when  ? 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  67 

Nig.     My  majlers  and  frietids^  and  good  people  draw  neere^ 

And  looke  to  your  purfes^  for  that  I  do  fay  \ 
CoK.     Ha,  ha,  this  chimes  !  good  counfell  at  firfl  dafh. 
Nig.     And  though  little  money ^  in  them  you  doe  beare. 

It  cofl  more  to  get^  then  to  lofe  in  a  day.  5 

[CoK.     Good! 
YoiL  oft  haue  beene  told, 
Both  the  youfig  and  the  old  ; 
And  bidden  beware  of  the  cutpurfefo  bold  : 
Then  if  yoic  take  heed  not,  free  me  from  the  curfe,  10 

Who  both  giue  you  warning,  for  and,  the  cutpurfe. 

[CoK.     Well  faid!   hee  were 
to  blame  that  wold  not  i'faith. 
Youth,  youth,  thou  hadfl better  bin  flaru' d by  thy  Nurfe, 
Theti  Hue  to  be  hanged  for  cutting  a  purfe.  15 

CoK.     Good  i'faith,  how  fay  you,  Numps  ?    Is  there  any 
harme  i'this  ? 

Nig.     //  hath  bin  vpbrayded  to  7?ien  of  my  trade, 

That  ofte  times  we  are  the  caufe  of  this  crime. 

[CoK.     The  more  coxcobes  they   20 
'   that  did  it,  I  wufTe.' 
Alacke  and  for  pitty,  why  fhould  it  be  faid  1 
As  if  they  regarded  or  places,  or  time. 
Examples  haue  been 

Of  fome  that  were  feen,  25 

In  Weflminfler  Hall,  yea  the  pleaders  between. 
Then  why  fJiould  the  ludges  be  free  from  this  curfe, 
More  then  my  poore  felfe,  for  cutting  the  purfe  ? 

[CoK.     God  a  mercy  for  that !  why  fhould  they  be 

more  free  indeede  ?  30 

Youth,  youth,  thou  hadfl  better  bin  flaru'd  by  thy  Nurfe, 
Then  Hue  to  be  hanged  for  cutting  a  purfe. 
CoK.     That  againe,  good  Ballad-man,  that  againe.     \^He  [43] 
fengs  the  burden  with  hi?n.']     O  rare!  I  would  faine  rubbe  mine 

II    iox  followed  by  a  comma,  none  after  and  i6g2,  iyi6^  IV,  G 
13   wold]  would  i6g2,  1716,  IV,  G 


68  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

elbow  now,  but  I  dare  not  pull  out  my  hand.     On,  I  pray 
thee,  hee  that  made  this  ballad,  fhall  be  Poet  to  my  Mafque. 
Nig.     At  Worcter  'tis  knowne  well^  and  euen  Vthe  layle^ 
A  Knight  of  good  worjhip  did  there  Jfiew  his  face, 
5  Againfl  the  foule  fmners,  in  zeale  for  to  rayle. 

And  lofl  (ipfo  fa(5lo)  his  purfe  in  the  place. 
[CoK.     Is  it  poffible  ? 
Nay,  once  from  the  Seat 
Of  Judgement  fo  great, 
10  A  Judge  there  did  lofe  a  f  aire  pouch  of  veluete. 

[CoK.     Ffaith  ? 
O  Jord  for  thy  mercy,  how  wicked  or  wo?fe. 
Are  thofe  that  fo  venture  their  necks  for  a  purfe  !      Youth, 
youth,  a^c. 
15       CoK,      Youth,  youth,  &'c  ?  pray  thee  flay  a  little,  friend, 
yet  o'thy  confcience,  Numps,   fpeake,   is  there  any  harme 
i'this  ? 

Was.     To  tell  you  true,  'tis  too  good  for  you,  leffe  you 

had  grace  to  follow  it. 

20       Ivs.     It  doth  difcouer  enormitie,  I'le  marke  it  more  :  I 

ha'not  lik'd  a  paltry  piece  of  poetry,  fo  well  a  good  while. 

CoK.      Youth,  youth,  ^'c  !    where's  this  youth,  now  ?     A 

man  mufl  call  vpon  him,  for  his  owne  good,  and  yet  hee 

will  not  appeare  :  looke  here,  here's  for  him,    \^Hee  Jhewes  his 

25  purfe.']  handy-dandy,  which  hand  will  he  haue  ?    On,  I  pray 

thee,  with  the  reft,  I  doe  heare  of  him,  but  I  cannot  fee 

him,  this  Mafter  Youth,  the  cutpurfe. 

Nig.     At  Playes  and  at  Sermons,  and  at  the  Sefsions, 
' Tis  daily  their pra^ice  fuch  booty  to  make: 
20  Yea,  vnder  the  Gallowes,  at  Executions, 

They  flic ke  not  the  St2ire,-2iho\xts  purfes  to  take. 
Nay  one  without  grace, 
at  a  better  place, 

14  In  place  of&'c.,  G  inserts  :  thou  hadst  better  been  starv'd  by  thy  nurse, 
Than  live  to  be  hanged  for  cutting  a  purse. 
15    ^'cl']  &c.  1716,   W:  &C.—  G  33    At  a  [far]  better  place,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  69 

At  Court,  &'  in  Chriftmas,  before  the  Kings  face  ^ 

[CoK.     That  was  a  fine  fellow! 
I  would  haue  him,  now. 
Alacke  then  for  pitty  mufl  I  beare  the  curfe^ 
That  onely  belongs  to  the  cunning  cutpurfe  ?  5 

CoK.  But  where's  their  cunning,  now,  when  they 
(hould  vfe  it?  they  are  all  chain'd  now,  I  warrant  you. 
Youth,  youth,  thou  hadfl  better,  ^'c.  The  Rat-catchers 
charme,  are  all  fooles  and  Affes  to  this!  A  poxe  on  'hem, 
that  they  will  not  come!  that  a  man  fhould  haue  fuch  a  10 
defire  to  a  thing,  and  want  it. 

QvAR.     'Fore  God,  I'ld  giue  halfe  the  Fayre,  and  'twere 
mine,  for  a  cutpurfe  for  him,  to  faue  his  longing. 

CoK.      Looke  you  Sifter,  \^Hee  Jhewes  his purfe  againe.^  heere, 
heere,  where  is't  now  ?  which  pocket  is't  in  ?  for  a  wager  ?    15 

Was.     I  befeech  you  leaue  your  wagers,  and  let  him  end 
his  matter,  an't  may  be. 

CoK.     O,  are  you  aedified  Nutnps  ? 

Ivs.      Indeed  hee  do's  interrupt  him,  too  much  :  there 
Numps  fpoke  to  purpofe.  20 

CoK.   [againe.]  Sifter,  I  am  an  Affe,  I  cannot  keepe  my   [44] 
purfe  :  on,  on  ;  I  pray  thee,  friend. 

[Edgworth  gels  vp  to  him,  and  tickles  him  in  the  eare  with  ajlraw  twice 
to  draw  his  hand  out  of  his  pocket. 
Nig.     But  O,  you  vile  nation  of  cutpurfes  all. 

Relent  and  repent,  a7id  ametid  and  be  found, 
And  know  that  you  ought  not^  by  honefl  mens  fall,  25 

Adnauce  your  owne  fortunes,  to  die  aboue  ground. 
And  though  you  goe  gay, 
In  filkes  as  you  may, 
[WiNw.     Will  you  fee  fport  ?  looke,  there's 
a  fellow  gathers  vp  to  him,  marke.  30 

[QvA.     Good,  'ifaith  !   6  he  has  lighted  on 
the  wrog  pocket. 

9    Charms  1716,   W,  G 
22    G  inserts  :    Night.     Youth,  youth,  thou  hadst  better  been  starv'd 

by  thy  nurse. 
Than  live  to  be  hanged  for  cutting  a  purse. 


70  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

[WiNw.     He   has   it,    'fore   God   hee  is  a 
braue  fellow  ;  pitty  hee  fhould  be  detecSled. 
//  is  not  the  high  way  to  heauen^  {as  they  fay) 
Repent  then^  repent  you  ^  for  better^  for  worfe\ 
5  And  kiffe  not  the  G allow es  for  cutting  a  purfe. 

Youth^  youth^  thou  hadfl  better  bin  fleru'd  by  thy  Nurfe^ 
Then  Hue  to  be  hanged  for  cutting  a  purfe. 
All     An  excellent  ballad  !  an  excellent  ballad  ! 
Edg.     Friend,  let  mee  ha'the  firfl,  let  mee  ha'the  firfl, 
lo   I  pray  you. 

CoK.      Pardon  mee,  Sir.      Firfl  come,  firfl  feru'd  ;  and 
rie  buy  the  whole  bundle  too. 
'  ■         Win.     That  conueyance  was  better  then   all,   did  you 

fee't  ?  he  has  giuen  the  purfe  to  the  ballad-fmger. 
15       QvAR.     Has  hee? 

Edg.      Sir,  I  cry  you  mercy  ;  I'le  not  hinder  the  poore 
mans  profit  :  pray  you  miflake  me  not. 

CoK.     Sir,  I  take  you  for  an  honefl  Gentleman  ;  if  that 
be  miflaking,  I  met  you  to   day  afore  :  ha  !    humh  !     O 
20  God  !  my  purfe  is  gone,  my  purfe,  my  purfe,  &c. 

Was.     Come,  doe  not  make  a  flirre,  and  cry  your  felfe 
an  Affe,  thorow  the  Fayre  afore  your  time. 

CoK.     Why  hafl  thou  it,   Numpes  ?    good  Numpes^   how 
came  you  by  it  ?     I  mar'le  ! 
25        Was.      I  pray  you  feeke  fome  other  gamfler,  to  play  the 
foole  with  :   you  may  lofe  it  time  enough,   for  all  your 
Fayre-vi\t. 

CoK.      By  this  good  hand,  gloue  and  all,   I    ha'lofl  it 
already,  if  thou  hafl  it  not  :  feele  elfe,  and  Miftris  Grace's 
30  handkercher,  too,  out  o'the  tother  pocket. 

Was.     Why,  'tis  well  ;  very  well,  exceeding  pretty,  and 
well. 

Edg.     Are  you  fure  you  ha'lofl  it.  Sir  ? 
CoK.     O  God  !  yes  ;  as  I  am  an  honefl  man,  I  had  it 
35   but  e'en  now,  at  youth,  youth. 

18  Gentleman  ;]  gentleman,  G  19  O  God]  O  Lord  G 

20  &c.  om.,  a  third  my  purse  inserted  G  34  O  God]  O  Lord  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  yi 

Nig.     I  hope  you  fufpe6l  not  me,  Sir. 

Edg.  Thee  ?  that  were  a  iefl  indeede  !  Dofl  thou 
thinke  the  Gentleman  is  foolifh  ?  where  hadfl  thou  hands, 
I  pray  thee  ?     Away  Affe,  away. 

Ivs.     I  (hall  be  beaten  againe,  if  I  be  fpi'd.  5 

Edg.  Sir,  I  fufpe6l  an  odde  fellow,  yonder,  is  flealing 
away. 

OvE.     Brother,   it  is  the  preaching  fellow !    you  (hall   [45] 
fufpe6l  him.     He  was  at  your  tother  purfe,  you  know  ! 
Nay,  (lay.  Sir,  and  view  the  worke  you  ha'done,   an'  you   10 
be  benefic'd  at  the  Gallowes,   and  preach  there,   thanke 
your  owne  handy-worke. 

CoK.  Sir,  you  fhall  take  no  pride  in  your  preferment  : 
you  fhall  be  filenc'd  quickly. 

Ivs.     What  doe  you  meane  ?  fweet  buds  of  gentility.  15 

CoK.  To  ha'my  peneworths  out  on  you  :  Bud.  No 
le(re  then  two  purfes  a  day,  ferue  you  ?  I  thought  you  a 
fimple  fellow,  when  my  man  Numpes  beate  you,  i'the 
morning,  and  pittied  you — 

OvE.     So  did  I,  I'll  befworne,  brother  ;  but  now  I  fee   20 
hee  is  a  lewd,  and  pernicious  Enormity  :  (as  Mafler  Ouer- 
doo  calls  him.) 

Ivs.     Mine  owne  words  turn'd  vpon  mee,   like  fwords. 

CoK.     Cannot  a  man's  purfe  be  at  quiet  for  you,  i'the 
Maders  pocket,  but  you  mud  intice  it  forth,  and  debauch   25 
it? 

Was.  Sir,  Sir,  keepe  your  debauch,  and  your  fine 
Bartholmew-tQvmQs  to  your  felfe  ;  and  make  as  much  on 
'hem  as  you  pleafe.  But  gi'me  this  from  you,  i'the 
meane  time  :    I  befeech  you,   fee  if  I   can  looke  to  this.    30 

[Wafp  takes  the  Licence  from  him. 

CoK.      Why,  Numpst 

Was.     Why  ?   becaufe  you  are  an   Affe,   Sir,   there's  a 
reafon  the  (horted  way,  and  you  will  needs  ha'it  ;    now 
you  ha'got  the  tricke  of  lofmg,  you'ld  lofe  your  breech, 
an't  'twere  loofe.     I  know  you,  Sir,  come,  deliuer,  you'll    35 
goe  and  cracke  the  vermine,  you  breed  now,  will  you  ?  'tis 


72  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

very  fine,  will  you  ha'the  truth  on't  ?  they  are  fnch  retch- 
leffe  flies  as  you  are,  that  blow  cutpurfes  abroad  in  euery 
corner  ;  your  foolifti  hauing  of  money,  makes  'hem.  An' 
there  were  no  wifer  then  I,  Sir,  the  trade  fhould  lye  open 
5  for  you.  Sir,  it  fhould  i'faith,  Sir.  I  would  teach  your 
wit  to  come  to  your  head,  Sir,  as  well  as  your  land  to 
come  into  your  hand,  I  affure  you.  Sir. 
Win.     Alacke,  good  Numps. 

Was.       Nay,    Gentlemen,    neuer  pitty  mee,    I    am    not 
ID  worth  it  :     Lord  fend  me  at  home  once,  to  Harrow  o'the 
Hill  againe,  if  I  trauell  any  more,  call  me  Coriat  ;  with  all 
my  heart. 

QvAR.     Stay,    Sir,    I    mufl    haue   a  word  with  you  in 

priuate.     Doe  you  heare  ? 

15        Edg.     With  me.  Sir?    what's  your  pleafure  ?    good  Sir. 

QvAR.      Doe  not  deny  it.     You  are  a  cutpurfe.  Sir,  this 

Gentleman  here,  and  I,  faw  you,  nor  doe  we  meane  to 

dete6t  you  (though  we  can  fufficiently  informe  our  felues, 

toward  the  danger  of  concealing  you)  but  you  mufl  doe  vs 

20   a  piece  of  feruice. 

Edg.      Good   Gentlemen,   doe  not  vndoe  me  ;  I  am  a 
ciuill  young  man,  and  but  a  beginner,  indeed. 

QvAR.     Sir,  your  beginning  fhall  bring  on  your  ending, 
[46]   for  vs.     We  are  no  Catchpoles  nor  Conllables.     That  you 
25   are  to  vndertake,  is  this  ;  you  faw  the  old  fellow,  with  the 
blacke  boxe,  here  ? 

Edg.     The  little  old  Gouernour,  Sir  ? 
QvAR.     That  fame  :    I  fee,  you  haue  flowne  him  to  a 
marke  already.       I  would  ha'you  get  away  that  boxe  from 
30  him,  and  bring  it  vs. 

Edg.       Would  you  ha'the  boxe  and  all,  Sir  ?  or  onely 

that,  that  is  in't  ?     Fie  get  you  that,  and  leaue  him  the 

boxe,  to  play  with  flill  :    (which  will  be  the  harder  o'the 

two)  becaufe  I  would  gaine  your  worfhips  good  opinion 

35    of  me. 

WiN-w.       He  fayes  well,    'tis  the  greater  Maflry,    and 
'twill  make  the  more  fport  when  'tis  mifl. 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  73 

Edg.  I,  and  'twill  be  the  longer  a  miffing,  to  draw  on 
the  fport. 

QvAR,  But  looke  you  doe  it  now,  firrah,  and  keepe 
your  word  :  or — 

Edg.     Sir,  if  euer  I  breake  my  word,  with  a  Gentleman,      5 
may  I  neuer  read  word  at  my  need.     Where  fhall  I  find 
you  ? 

QvAR.     Some-where  i'the  Fayre,  heereabouts.     Difpatch 
it  quickly.     I  would  faine  fee  the  carefull  foole  deluded! 
of  all  Beads,  I  loue  the  ferious  Affe.     He  that  takes  paines    10 
to  be  one,  and  playes  the  foole,  with  the  greateft  diligence 
that  can  be. 

Gra.  Then  you  would  not  chofe.  Sir,  but  loue  my 
Guardian,  luflice  Ouerdoo,  who  is  anfwerable  to  that  de- 
fcription,  in  euery  haire  of  him.  15 

QvAR.  So  I  haue  heard.  But  how  came  you,  Miflris 
Welborne,  to  be  his  Ward  ?  or  haue  relation  to  him,  at  firfl  ? 

Gra.      Faith,  through  a  common  calamity,   he  bought 
me,  Sir  ;    and  now  he  will  marry  me  to  his  wiues  brother, 
this  wife  Gentleman,  that  you  fee,  or  elfe  I  mufl  pay  value   20 
o'my  land  , 

QvAR.  Slid,  is  there  no  deuice  of  difparagement  ?  or 
fo  ?  talke  with  fome  crafty  fellow,  fome  picklocke  o'the 
Law!  Would  I  had  fludied  a  yeere  longer  i'the  Innes  of 
Court,  and't  had  beene  but  i'your  cafe.  25 

WiN-w.     I  Mailer  Quarlous,  are  you  proffering  ? 

Gra.     You'ld  bring  but  little  ayde,  Sir. 

WiN-w.  (I'le  looke  to  you  'ifaith,  Gamfler.)  An  vn- 
fortunate  foolifh  Tribe  you  are  falne  into,  Lady,  I  wonder 
you  can  endure  'hem.  30 

Gra.  Sir,  they  that  cannot  worke  their  fetters  off  ; 
mufl  weare  'hem. 

WiNW.  You  fee  what  care  they  haue  on  you,  to  leaue 
you  thus. 

Gra.     Faith  the  fame  they  haue  of  themfelues.  Sir.     I   35 
cannot  greatly  complaine,  if  this  were  all  the  plea  I  had 
againft  'hem. 


74  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Win.     'Tis  true!  but  will  you  pleafe  to  withdraw  with 

vs,  a  little,  and  make  them  thinke,  they  haue  loll  you.     I 

hope  our  manners  ha'beene  fuch  hitherto,  and  our  lan- 

[47]  guage,  as  will  giue  you  no  caufe,  to  doubt  your  felfe,  in 

5    our  company. 

Gra.     Sir,   I   will  giue  my  felfe,  no  caufe  ;    I  am   fo 
fecure  of  mine  owne  manners,  as  I  fufpedl  not  yours. 
QvAR.     Looke  where  lo/in  Little-wit  comes. 
WiN-w.     Away,  Fie  not  be  feene,  by  him. 
10       QvAR.     No,  you  were  not  bell,  hee'ld  tell  his  mother, 
the  widdow. 

Win  w.     Heatt,  what  doe  you  meane  ? 
QvAR.     Cry  you  mercy,  is  the  winde  there?   mull  not 
the  widdow  be  nam'd  ? 


Act.  Ill      Scene.  VI. 

loHN.     Win.     Trash.     Leatherhead. 
Knockhvm.     Bvsy.     Pvrecraft. 

15    T^Oe  you  heare  Win^  Win} 

^^     Win.     What  fay  you,  /(:7>^/2  ? 

loH.  While  they  are  paying  the  reckoning,  Win^  I'll 
tell  you  a  thing  Win^  wee  fhall  neuer  fee  any  fights  i'the 
Fayre^  Win,  except  you  long  flill.   Win,  good  Win,  fweet 

20  Win,  long  to  fee  fome  Hobby-horfes,  and  fome  Drummes, 
and  Rattles,  and  Dogs,  and  fine  deuices.  Win.  The  Bull 
with  the  fiue  legs,  Win  ;  and  the  great  Hog  :  now  you 
ha'begun  with  Pigge,  you  may  long  for  any  thing.  Win, 
and  fo  for  my  Motion,  Win. 

25       Win.     But  we  fha'not  eat  o'the  Bull,  and  the  Hogge 
John,  how  Ihall  I  long  then  ? 

12    Heatt]    Heart  i6g2,  iyi6,    W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  75 

loH.  O  yes!  Win  :  you  may  long  to  fee,  as  well  as  to 
tafle,  IVin  :  how  did  the  Pothecarie's  wife,  JVt'n^  that  long'd 
to  fee  the  Anatomy,  IVin  ?  or  the  Lady,  Win,  that  defir'd 
to  fpit  i'the  great  Lawyers  mouth,  after  an  eloquent 
pleading  ?  I  affure  you  they  long'd.  Win,  good  Win,  goe  5 
in,  and  long. 

Tra.  I  think  we  are  rid  of  our  new  cuflomer,  brother 
Leatherhead,  wee  fhall  heare  no  more  of  him. 

[  They  plot  to  be  gone. 

Lea.  All  the  better,  let's  packe  vp  all,  and  be  gone, 
before  he  finde  vs.  10 

Tra.  Stay  a  little,  yonder  comes  a  company  :  it  may 
be  wee  may  take  fome  more  money. 

Kno,  Sir,  I  will  take  your  counfell,  and  cut  my  haire, 
and  leaue  vapours  :  I  fee,  that  Tabacco,  and  Bottle- Ale, 
and  Pig,  and  Whit,  and  very  Vrfla,  her  felfe,  is  all  vanity.    15 

Bvs.      Onely  Pigge  was  not  comprehended  in   my  ad- 
monition, the  refl  were.     For  long  haire,  it  is  an  Enfigne   [48] 
of  pride,  a  banner,  and  the  world  is  full  of  thofe  banners, 
very   full  of   Banners.       And,    bottle-ale    is  a   drinke   of 
Sathan's,  a  diet-drinke  of  Sathans,  deuifed  to  puffe  vs  vp,    20 
and    make  vs    fwell    in  this   latter  age  of  vanity,   as  the 
fmoake  of  tabacco,  to  keepe  vs  in  mifl  and  error:     But 
the  flefhly  woman,    (which  you  call  Vrjla)  is  aboue  all  to 
be    auoyded,    hauing  the  marks  vpon  her,    of   the   three 
enemies  of  Man,  the  World,  as  being  in   the  Faire  ;  the   25 
Deuill,  as  being  in  the  fire;  and  and  the  Flefh,  as  being 
her  felfe. 

PvR.  brother  Zeale-of -the- land  \  what  fhall  we  doe  ?  my 
daughter  Win-the- fight,  is  falne  into  her  fit  of  longing 
againe.  30 

Bvs.     For  more  pig  ?  there  is  no  more,  is  there  ? 

PvR.     To  fee  fome  fights  i'the  Faire. 

Bvs.     Sifler,  let  her  fly  the  impurity  of  the  place,  fwiftly, 
left  fhee  partake  of  the  pitch  thereof.     Thou  art  the  feate 
of  the  Beafl,  O  Smithfield,  and  I  will  leaue  thee.     Idolatry  35 
peepeth  out  on  euery  fide  of  thee. 


76  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Kno.  An  excellent  right  Hypocrite  !  now  his  belly  is 
full,  he  falls  a  railing  and  kicking,  the  lade.  A  very  good 
vapour!  I'll  in,  and  ioy  Vrfla^  with  telling,  how  her  pigge 
works,  two  and  a  halfe  he  eate  to  his  Ihare.  And  he  has 
5  drunke  a  pailefull.  He  eates  with  his  eyes,  as  well  as  his 
teeth. 

Lea.     What  doe  you  lack.  Gentlemen  ?     What  is't  you 
buy?  Rattles,  Drumms,  Babies.-^ 

Bvs.  Peace,  with  thy  Apocryphall  wares,  thou  pro- 
lo  phane  Publican:  thy  Bells^  thy  Dragons^  and  thy  Tobie's 
Dogges.  Thy  Hobby-horfe  is  an  Idoll,  a  very  Idoll,  a 
feirce  and  rancke  Idoll :  And  thou,  the  Nabuchadnezzar^ 
the  proud  Nabuchadnezzar  of  the  Faire^  that  fet'fl  it  vp,  for 
children  to  fall  downe  to,  and  worfhip. 
15  Lea.  Cry  you  mercy.  Sir,  will  you  buy  a  fiddle  to  fill 
vp  your  noife. 

loH.     Looke  Win.  doe,    looke  a   Gods  name,  and  faue 
your  longing.     Here  be  fine  fights. 

PvR.      I  child,  fo  you  hate  'hem,  as  our  Brother  Zeale 
20  do's,  you  may  looke  on  'hem. 

Lea.     Or  what  do  you  fay,  to  a  Drumme,  Sir? 

Bvs.     It  is  the  broken  belly  of  the  Beafi.,  and  thy  Bel- 
lowes  there  are  his  lungs,  and  thefe  Pipes  are  his  throate, 
thofe  Feathers  are  of  his  taile,  and  thy  Rattles,  the  gnafh- 
25   ing  of  his  teeth. 

Tra.     And  what's  my  ginger-bread  ?  I  pray  you. 

Bvs.     The  prouander  that  pricks  him  vp.     Hence  with 
thy  bafket  of  Popery,  thy  nefi.  of  Images :  and  whole  legend 
of  ginger-worke. 
20       Lea.     Sir  if  you  be  not  quiet,  the  quicklier,  I'll  ha'you 
clapp'd  fairely  by  the  heeles,  for  difturbing  the  Faire. 

Bvs.     The  finne  of  the  Faire  prouokes  me,  I  cannot  bee 
filent. 

PvR.     Good  brother  Zeale  ! 
[40]       Lea.     Sir,  I'll  make  you  filent,  beleeue  it. 

loH.      Il'd  giue  a  (hilling,  you  could  i'faith,  friend.   ^ 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  77 

Lea.  Sir,  giue  me  your  fhilling,  I'll  giue  you  my  (hop, 
if  I  do  not,  and  I'll  leaue  it  in  pawne  with  you,  i'the  meane 
time. 

lOH.     A  match  i'faith,  but  do  it  quickly,  then. 

Bvs.     [He  fpeakes  to  the  widdow.'l      Hinder  me  not,  woman.     5 
I  was  mou'd  in  fpirit,  to  bee  here,  this  day,  in  this  Faire^ 
this  wicked,  and  foule  Faire\  and  fitter  may  it  be  a  called  a 
foule,  then  a  Faire  :     To  protefl  againfl  the  abufes  of  it, 
the  foule  abufes  of  it,  in   regard  of  the  affl idled   Saints, 
that    are    troubled,     very    much    troubled,     exceedingly   lo 
troubled,  with  the  opening  of  the  merchandize  of  Babylon 
againe,   &  the  peeping  of   Popery    vpon    the    flals,    here, 
here,  in  the  high  places.     See  you  not   Goldy locks ^  the  pur- 
ple flrumpet,    there  ?    in   her  yellow  gowne,    and  greene 
fleeues?  the  prophane  pipes,  the  tinckling  timbrells  ?     A   15 
shop  of  reliques  ! 

loH.     Pray  you  forbeare,  I  am  put  in  trufl  with  'hem. 

Bvs.     And  this  Idolatrous  Groue  of  Images,  this  flasket 

of   Idols!    which  I  will  pull  downe —      \Ouerthrows  the  ginger- 
bread. 

(Tra.     O  my  ware,  my  ware,  God  bleffe  it.)  20 

Bvs.     In.  my  zeale,  and  glory  to  be  thus  exercis'd. 

[Leatherhead  enters  with  officers. 

Lea.  Here  he  is,  pray  you  lay  hold  on  his  zeale,  wee 
cannot  fell  a  whifllc,  for  "him,  in  tune.  Stop  his  noyfe, 
firft!  25 

Bvs.  Thou  canfl  not:  'tis  a  san6lified  noife.  I  will 
make  a  loud  and  moft  flrong  noife,  till  I  haue  daunted  the 
prophane  enemy.     And  for  this  caufe. — 

I^EA.  Sir,  heer's  no  man  afraid  of  you,  or  your  caufe. 
You  fhall  fweare  it,  i'the  flocks.  Sir.  30 

Bvs.  I  will  thrufl  my  felfe  into  the  flocks,  vpon  the 
pikes  of  the  Land. 

Lea.     Carry  him  away. 

PvR.     What  doe  you  meane,  wicked  men  ? 

Bvs.     Let  them  alone;  I  feare  them  not.  35 

7   be  called  a  i6g2,  1716,   W,  G 


7^  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

loH.     Was  not  this  fhilling  well  ventur'd,   Win  ?  for  our 
liberty  ?     Now  we  may  goe  play,  and  fee  ouer  the  Fayre^ 
where  we  lift  our  felues;  my  mother  is  gone  after  him, 
and  let  her  ee'n  go,  and  loofe  vs. 
2        Win.     Yes  lohn^  but  I  know  not  what  to  doe. 
loH.     For  what.   Win  ? 

Win.     For  a  thing,   I  am   afham'd  to  tell  you,   i'faith, 
and  'tis  too  farre  to  go  home. 

loH.     I  pray  thee  bee  not  afham'd.  Win.     Comb,  i'faith 
lo  thou  fhall  not  be  afham'd,  is  it  any  thing  about  the  Hobby- 
horfe-man  ?  an't  be,  fpeake  freely. 

Win.     Hang  him,  bafe  Bobchin,   I   fcorne  him;    no,   I 
haue  very  great,  what  fha'call'um,  lohn. 

loH.     6 !     Is  that  all.   Win  ?    wee'll  goe  backe  to  Cap- 

15    taine  Jordan;  to  the  pig-womans.   Win.  hee'll  helpe  vs,  or 

[50]   fhe  with  a  dripping  pan,  or  an  old  kettle,    or  fomething. 

The  poore  greafie  foule  loues  you.  Win,   and  after  we'll 

vifit  the  Fayre  all  ouer.   Win,  and,  fee  my  Puppet  play. 

Win,  you  know  it's  a  fine  matter,   Wi^t. 

20       Lea.     Let's  away,  I  counfell'd  you  to  packe  vp  afore, 

lone. 

Tra.     a  poxe  of  his  Bedlem  purity.      Hee  has  fpoyl'd 
halfe  my  ware:  but   the   beft  is,  wee  lofe  nothing,  if  we 
miffe  our  firft  Merchant. 
25        Lea.      It  fhall  be  hard  for  him   to  finde,   or  know    vs, 
when  we  are  tranflated,  lone. 

4    loofe]  lose  i6g2,  1716,  IV,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  79 


Act.  nil.      Scene.  I. 

Trovble-all.     Bristle.     Haggise.     Cokes 
IvsTicE.     Pocher.     Bvsy.     Pvrecraft. 

MY  Maflers,   I  doe  make  no  doubt,  but  you  are 
officers. 
Bri.     What  then,  Sir  ? 

Tro.     And  the  Kings  louing,  and  obedient 
fubie6ls.  5 

Bri.     Obedient,  friend  ?   take  heede  what  you  fpeake, 
I  aduife  you :   Oliuer  Brijile  aduifes  you.      His  louing  fub- 
ie6ts,  we  grant  you :  but  not  his  obedient,  at  this  time,  by 
your  leaue,  wee  know  ourfelues,  a  little  better  then  fo, 
wee  are  to  command,  S'".  and  fuch  as  you  are  to  be  obe-    10 
dient.      Here's  one  of  his  obedient  fubiedls,  going  to  the 
flocks,  and  wee'U  make  you  fuch  another,  if  you  talke. 
Tro.     You  are  all  wife  enough  i  your  places,  I  know. 
Bri.     If  you  know  it.   Sir,   why  doe  you  bring  it  in 
queflion  ?  15 

Tro.  I  queflion  nothing,  pardon  me.  I  do  only  hope 
you  haue  warrant,  for  what  you  doe,  and  fo,  quit  you,  and 
fo,  multiply  you.  [He  goes  away  againe. 

Hag.  What's  hee  ?  bring  him  vp  to  the  flocks  there. 
Why  bring  you  him  not  vp  ?  20 

Tro.     \comes  again,']    If  you  haue  lullice  Ouerdoo's  warrant,    [5^1 
'tis  well:    you  are  fafe;  that  is  the  warrant  of  warrants, 
rie  not  giue  this  button,  for  any  mans  warrant  elfe. 

Bri.     Like  enough,  Sir,  but  let  me  tell  you,  an'  you  play 
away  your  buttons,  thus,  you  will  want  'hem  ere  night,  for  25 
any  {lore  I  fee  about  you:    you  might   keepe  'hem,   and 
faue  pinnes,  I  wuffe.  \goes  away. 

Ivs.  What  fhould  hee  be,  that  doth  fo  efleeme,  and 
aduance  my  warrant  ?  he  feemes  a  fober  and  difcreet  per- 


8o  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

fon !  it  is  a  comfort  to  a  good  confcience,  to  be  follow'd 
with  a  good  fame,  in  his  fufferings.  The  world  will  haue 
a  pretty  taft  by  this,  how  I  can  beare  aduerfity:  and  it  will 
beget  a  kind  of  reuerence,  toward  me,  hereafter,  euen 
5  from  mine  enemies,  when  they  fhall  fee  I  carry  my  calam- 
ity nobly,  and  that  it  doth  neither  breake  mee,  nor  bend 
mee. 

Hag.  Come,  Sir,  heere's  a  place  for  you  to  preach  in. 
Will  you  put  in  your  legge  ?  {They put  Mm  in  thejlocks. 

lo       Ivs.     That  I  will,  cheerefully. 

Bri.  O'my  confcience  a  Seminary  !  hee  kiffes  the 
flockes. 

CoK.     Well  my  Maflers,  I'le  leaue  him  with  you;  now 
I   fee  him  beflow'd,   I'le  goe   looke   for  my  goods,   and 
15   Numps. 

Hag.  You  may,  Sir,  I  warrant  you;  where's  the  tother 
Bawler  ?  fetch  him  too,  you  fhall  find  'hem  both  faft 
enough. 

Ivs.      In  the  mid'fl  of  this  tumult,  I  will  yet  be  the  Author 

20   of  mine  owne  refl,  and  not  minding  their  fury,  fit  in  the 

flockes,  in  that  calme,  as  fhall  be  able  to  trouble  a  Triumph, 

Tro.     {comes  again,']    Doe  you  affure  me  vpon  your  words  ? 

may  I  vndertake  for  you,  if  I  be  ask'd  the  queflion;  that 

you  haue  this  warrant  ? 

25       Hag.     What's  this  fellow,  for  Gods  fake  ? 

Tro.     Doe  but  fhew  me  Adam  Ouerdoo,  and  I  am  fatisfied. 

{goes  out. 

Bri.  Hee  is  a  fellow  that  is  diftra6ted,  they  fay;  one 
Trouble-all:  hee  was  an  officer  in  the  Court  of  Pie-pouldres^ 
here  lafl  yeere,  and  put  out  on  his  place  by  luflice  Ouerdoo. 

30        Ivs.     Ha! 

Bri.  Vpon  which,  he  tooke  an  idle  conceipt,  and's 
runne  mad  vpon't.  So  that  euer  fince,  hee  will  doe 
nothing,  but  by  luflice  Ouerdoo' s  warrant,  he  will  not  eate 
a  crufl,  nor  drinke  a  little,  nor  make  him  in  his  apparell, 

35   ready.      His  wife,  Sirreuerence,  cannot  get  him  make  his 
water,  or  fhift  his  fhirt,  without  his  warrant. 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  8i 

I  vs.  If  this  be  true,  this  is  my  greatefl  difafler!  how  am 
I  bound  to  fatisfie  this  poore  man,  that  is  of  fo  good  a 
nature  to  mee,  out  of  his  wits !  where  there  is  no  roome 
left  for  diffembling. 

Tro.     [comes  in.]    If  you  cannot  fhew  me  Adam  Ouerdoo^     5 
I  am  in  doubt  of  you :  I  am  afraid  you  cannot  anfwere  it. 

\£oes  agatne. 

Hag.  Before  me.  Neighbour  Brijlle  (and  now  I  thinke 
on't  better)  luflice  Ouerdoo,  is  a  very  parantory  perfon. 

Bri.  O  !  are  you  aduis'd  of  that  ?  and  a  feuere  lufticer, 
by  your  leaue.  lo 

Ivs.     Doe  I  heare  ill  o'that  fide,  too  ?  [52 

Bri.  He  will  fit  as  vpright  o'the  bench,  an'  you  marke 
him,  as  a  candle  i'the  focket,  and  giue  light  to  the  whole 
Court  in  euery  bufineffe. 

Hag.     But  he  will  burne  blew,  and  fwell   like  a  bile    15 
(God  bleffe  vs)  an*  he  be  angry. 

Bri.  I,  and  hee  will  be  angry  too,  when  his  lift,  that's 
more:  and  when  hee  is  angry,  be  it  right  or  wrong; 
hee  has  the  Law  on's  fide,  euer.     I  marke  that  too. 

Ivs.     I  will  be  more  tender  hereafter.     I  fee  compaffion    20 
may  become  zHuJlice^  though  it  be  a  weakneffe,  I  confelfe; 
and  neerer  a  vice,  then  a  vertue. 

Hag.  Well,  take  him  out  o'the  ftocks  againe,  wee'll 
goe  a  fure  way  to  worke,  wee'll  ha'the  Ace  of  hearts  of 

our  fide,   if  we  can.  [They  take  the  lujlice  out.         25 

Poc.  Come,  bring  him  away  to  his  fellow,  there. 
M after  Bufy^  we  Ihall  rule  your  legges,  I  hope,  though 
wee  cannot  rule  your  tongue. 

Bvs.     No,  Minifter  of  darknefl"e,  no,  thou  canft  not  rule 
my  tongue,  my  tongue  it  is  mine  own,  and  with  it  I  will   30 
both  knocke,  and  mockedowne  your ^^r///^/w^7<:'-abhomina- 
tions,  till  you  be  made  a  hiffing  to  the  neighbour  Parifhes, 
round  about. 

Hag.     Let  him  alone,  we  haue  deuis'd  better  vpon't. 

Pvr.     And  fhall  he  not  into  the  ftocks  then  ?  35 

15    bile]  Boil  1716,  IV,  G  17   his  lift]  he's  list  IV:  he  lists  G 


82  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Bri.  No,  Miftreffe,  wee'll  haue  'hem  both  to  lujlice 
Ouerdoo^  and  let  him  doe  ouer  'hem  as  is  fitting.  Then  I, 
and  my  goffip  Haggis,  and  my  beadle  Pocher  are  difcharg'd. 

PvR.     O,  I  thanke  you,  bleffed,  honefl  men! 
5        Bri.     Nay,   neuer  thank  vs,   but  thank   this  mad-man 
that  comes  heere,  hee  put  it  in  our  heads. 

PvR.  Is  hee  mad  ?  Now  heauefi  increafe  his  madneffe, 
and  bleffe  it,  and  thanke  it,  Sir,  your  poore  hand-maide 

thanks  you.  Y^omes  againe. 

lo       Tro.      Haue  you  a  warrant  ?    an'  you  haue  a  warrant, 
(hew  it. 

PvR.     Yes,  I  haue  a  warrant  out  of  the  word,  to  giue 

thankes  for  remouing  any  fcorne  intended  to  the  brethren. 

Tro.     It  is  luflice  Ouerdoo's  warrant,  that  I  looke  for,  if 

15   you  haue  not  that,   keepe  your  word,   I'le  keepe  mine. 

Quit  yee,  and  multiply  yee. 


[53]  Act.  nil.      Scene.  II. 

Edgvvorth.     Trovble-all.     Nightingale. 
Cokes.     Costardmonger. 

/^Ome  away  Nightingale,  I  pray  thee. 

Tro.     Whither  goe  you  ?  where's  your  warrant  ? 
Edg.     Warrant,  for  what.  Sir  ? 
20       Tro.     For  what  you  goe  about,  you  know  how  fit  it  is, 
an'  you  haue  no  warrant,  bleffe  you,    I'le  pray  for  you, 
that's  all  I  can  doe.  \_Goes  out. 

Edg.     What  meanes  hee  ? 

Nig.     a  mad-man  that  haunts  the  Fayre,  doe  you  not 
25   know  him  ?  it's  maruell  hee  has  not  more  followers,  after 
his  ragged  heeles. 

Scenes  I  and  II  constitute  in  G  Scene  I. 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  83 

Edg.  Befhrew  him,  he  (lartled  me:  I  thought  he  had 
knowne  of  our  plot.  Guilt's  a  terrible  thing!  ha'you 
prepar'd  the  Coflardmonger  ? 

Nig.     Yes,  and  agreed  for  his  basket  of  peares;  hee  is 
at  the  corner  here,    ready.     And  your  Prife,    he   comes     5 
downe,    failing,    that  way,    all  alone  ;    without   his   Pro- 
te(5tor:  hee  is  rid  of  him,  it  feemes. 

Edg.     I,    I   know;  I  Ihould  ha'follow'd  his   Protedor- 
fhip  for  a  feat  I  am  to  doe  vpon  him:  But  this   offer'd 
it  felfe,   fo  i'the  way,    I  could  not  let  it  fcape  :  heere  he  10 
comes,  whiflle,  be  this  fport  call'd  Dorring  the  Dottrell. 

Nig.       Wh,  wh,  wh,  wh,  &C.  [Nightingale  whijlles 

CoK.     By  this  light,    I  cannot  finde  my  ginger-bread- 
Wife,  nor  my  Hobby-horfe-man  in  all  the  Fayre^  now;  to 
ha'my  money  againe.     And  I  do  not  know  the  way  out   15 
on't,   to  go  home  for  more,   doe  you  heare,   friend,  you 
that  whiflle  ;  what  tune  is  that,  you  whiflle  ? 

Nig.     a  new  tune,  I  am  pra(5lifmg,  Sir. 

CoK.     Dofl  thou  know  where  I  dwell,  I  pray  thee  ?  nay, 
on  with  thy  tune,  I  ha'no  fuch  hafl,  for  an  anfwer:  Tie    20 
pra6life  with  thee. 

Cos.     Buy  any  peares,  very  fine  peares,  peares  fine. 

[Nightingale  fels  his  foote  afore  him,  and  he  falls  with  his  basket. 

CoK.     Gods  fo!  a  muffe,  a  muffe,  a  mufl'e,  a  mulTe. 

Cos.  Good  Gentleman,  my  ware,  my  ware,  I  am  a 
poore  man.      Good  Sir,  my  ware.  25 

Nig.     Let  me  hold  your  fword.  Sir,  it  troubles  you.  [54 

CoK.  Doe,  and  my  cloake,  an'  thou  wilt;  and  my  hat, 
too.       [Cokes  falls  afcra77tbling  whilefl  they  runne  away  with  his  things. 

Edg.     a  delicate  great  boy!  me  thinks,   he  out-fcram- 
bles  'hem  all.     I  cannot  perfwade  my  felfe,  but  he  goes  to  30 
grammer-fchole  yet;  and  playes  the  trewant,  to  day. 

Nig.     Would  he  had  another  purfe  to  cut,  Zekiel. 

Edg.  Purfe?  a  man  might  cut  out  his  kidneys,  I 
thinke;  and  he  neuer  feele  'hem,  he  is  fo  earned  at  the 
fport.  35 

Nig.     His  foule  is  halfe  way  out  on's  body,  at  the  game. 


84  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Edg.     Away,  Nightingale-,  that  way. 
CoK.     I  thinke  I  am  furnifh'd  for  Catherne  peares,  for 
one  vnder-meale:  gi'me  my  cloake. 

Cos.     Good  Gentleman,  giue  me  my  ware. 
5        CoK.     Where's    the   fellow    I    ga'my    cloake   to  ?    my 
cloake?  and  my  hat?  ha!  Gods'lid,  is  he  gone?  thieues, 
thieues,  helpe  me  to  cry,  Gentlemen.  \^He  runs  out. 

Edg.  Away,  Coflermonger,  come  to  vs  to  Vrfla's. 
Talke  of  him  to  haue  a  foule?  'heart,  if  hee  haue  any 
lo  more  then  a  thing  giuen  him  in  flead  of  fait,  onely  to 
keepe  him  from  {linking,  I'le  be  hang'd  afore  my  time, 
prefently,  where  fhould  it  be  trow?  in  his  blood?  hee  has 
not  fo  much  to'ard  it  in  his  whole  body,  as  will  maintaine 
a  good  Flea  ;  And  if  hee  take  this  courfe,  he  will  not 
15  ha'fo  much  land  left,  as  to  reare  a  Calfe  within  this  twelue 
month.  Was  there  euer  greene  Plouer  fo  pull'd!  That 
his  little  Ouerfeer  had  beene  heere  now,  and  beene  but 
tall  enough,  to  fee  him  fleale  peares,  in  exchange,  for  his 
beauer-hat,  and  his  cloake  thus?  I  mufl  goe  finde  him 
20  out,  next,  for  his  blacke  boxe,  and  his  Patent  (it  feemes) 
hee  has  of  his  place  ;  which  I  thinke  the  Gentleman 
would  haue  a  reuerfion  of  ;  that  fpoke  to  me  for  it  fo 
earneflly. 

CoK.     {^He  comes  againe.]    Would  I  might  lofe  my  doublet, 

25   and  hofe,  too  ;  as  I  am  an  honefl  man,  and  neuer  flirre,  if 

I  thinke  there  be  any  thing,  but  thieuing,  and  cooz'ning, 

i'this  whole  Fayre.     Bartholmew-fayre,  quoth  he  ;  an'  euer 

any  Bartholmew  had  that  lucke  in't,  that  I  haue  had,  I'le 

be  martyr'd  for  him,  and  in  Smithjield^  too.      I  ha'paid  for 

30   my  peares,    a   rot   on  'hem.    Fie  keepe  'hem  no  longer  ; 

{throws  away  his  peares.']  you  were  choake-peares  to  mee  ;  I 

had  bin  better  ha'gone  to  mum  chance  for  you,  I  wuffe. 

Me  thinks  the  Fayre  fhould  not  haue  vs'd  me  thus,  and 

'twere  but  for  my  names  fake,  I  would  not  ha'vs'd  a  dog'o 

35   the  name,   fo.     O,  Numps  will    triumph,   now  !     Friend, 

doe  you  know  who  I  am?  or  where  I  lye?  I  doe  not  my 

12    prefently,]  presently  :  ibgs,  1716,  W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  85 

felfe,  I'll  befvvorne.  Doe  but  carry  me  home,  and  Tie 
pleafe  thee,  I  ha'money  enough  there,  I  ha'loft  my  felfe, 
and  my  cloake  and  my  hat  ;  and  my  fine  fword,  and  my 
fifler,  and  Numps^  and  Miflris  Grace,  (a  Gentlewoman  that 
I  fhould  ha'marryed)  and  a  cut-worke  handkercher,  fhee  5 
ga'mee,  and  two  purfes  to  day.  And  my  bargaine  o' 
Hobby-horfes  and  Ginger-bread,  which  grieues  me  worfl 
of   all.  [Trouble-all  comes  again. 

Tro.     By  whofe  warrant,  Sir,  haue  you  done  all  this  ? 

CoK.     Warrant?  thou  art  a  wife  fellow,  indeed,  as  if  a   [55] 
man  need  a  warrant  to  lofe  any  thing,  with. 

Tro.  Yes,  luftice  Ouerdo's  warrant,  a  man  may  get,  and 
lofe  with,  rie  fland  to't. 

CoK.      luflice   Ouerdoo'^.      Dofl   thou  know   him?     I   lye 
there,  hee  is  my  brother  in  Law,  hee  marryed  my  fifler  :    15 
pray  thee  fhew  me  the  way,  dofl  thou  know  the  houfe  ? 

Tro.  Sir,  fhew  mee  your  warrant,  I  know  nothing 
without  a  warrant,  pardon  me. 

CoK.      Why,    I  warrant   thee,    come   along  :  thou   ftialt 
fee,  I  haue  wrought  pillowes  there,  and  cambricke  ftieetes,    20 
and  fweete  bags,  too.     Pray  thee  guide  me  to  the  houfe. 

Tro.     Sir,    I'le  tell  you  ;    goe  you  thither  your  felfe, 
firfl,    alone  ;  tell   your  worfhipfull   brother  your  minde: 
and  but  bring  me  three  lines  of  his  hand,  or  his  Clerkes, 
with  Adam   Ouerdoo,  vnderneath  ;    here  I'le   (lay  you,    He    25 
obey  you,  and  Fie  guide  you  prefently. 

CoK.  S'lid,  this  is  an  Afl'e,  I  ha'found  him,  poxe  vpon 
mee,  what  doe  I  talking  to  fuch  a  dull  foole  ;  farewell,  you 
are  a  very  Coxcomb,  doe  you  heare? 

Tro.      I   thinke,   I   am,  if  Iufi.ice  Ouerdoo  figne  to  it,  I   30 
am,  and  fo  wee  are  all,  hee'll  quit  vs  all,  multiply  vs  all. 


86  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 


Act.  nil.      Scene.  IIJ. 

Grace.    Qvarlovs.    Win-wife.    Trovble-all. 
Edgvvorth. 

***         *  [^They  enter  with  their  /words  drawne. 

r^  Entlemen,  this  is  no  way  that  you  take :  you  do  but 
^"^  breed  one  another  trouble,  and  offence,  and  giue  me 
no  contentment  at  all.  I  am  no  fhe,  that  affe6ts  to  be 
quarrell'd  for,  or  haue  my  name  or  fortune  made  the 
5    queflion  of  mens  fwords. 

QvA.     S'lood,  wee  loue  you. 

Gra.     If  you  both  loue  mee,  as  you  pretend,  your  owne 
reafon  will  tell  you,  but  one  can  enioy  me,  and  to  that 
point,  there  leads  a  diredler  line,  then  by  my  infamy,  which 
lo   mufl  follow,  if  you  fight.     'Tis  true,  I  haue  profefl  it  to 
you  ingenuoufly,  that  rather  then  to  be  yoak'd  with  this 
Bridegroome  is  appointed  me,  I  would  take  vp  any  hus- 
band, almofl  vpon  any  trull.     Though  Subtilty  would  fay 
to  me,  (I  know)  hee  is  a  foole,  and  has  an  eflate,  and  I 
15    might  gouerne  him,  and  enioy  a  friend,  befide.     But  thefe 
are  not  my  aymes,  I  mufl  haue  a  husband  I  mufl  loue,  or 
I  cannot  Hue  with  him.     I   fhall  ill    make   one   of  thefe 
politique  wiues! 
[56]        WiN-w.     Why,  if  you  can  like  either  of  vs.  Lady,  fay, 
20   which  is  he,  and  the  other  fhall  fweare  inflantly  to  defifl. 
QvA.     Content,  I  accord  to  that  willingly. 
Gra.     Sure  you  thinke  me  a  woman  of  an  extreme  leuity, 
Gentlemen,  or  a  flrange  fancy,  that  (meeting  you  by  chance 
in  fuch  a  place,  as  this,  both  at  one  inllant,  and  not  yet  of 
25    two  hours  acquaintance,   neither  of  you  deferuing  afore 
the  other,  of  me)  I  fhould  fo  forfake  my  modelly  (though 

I     Here  begins  Scene  II  in  G. 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  87 

I  might  affe<5l  one  more  particularly)  as  to  fay,  This  is  he, 
and  name  him. 

QvA.     Why,  wherefore  fhould  you  not  ?     What  (hould 
hinder  you  ? 

Gra.  If  you  would  not  giue  it  to  my  modefly,  allow  5 
it  yet  to  my  wit;  giue  me  fo  much  of  woman,  and  cun- 
ning, as  not  to  betray  my  felfe  impertinently.  How  can  I 
iudge  of  you,  fo  farre  as  to  a  choyfe,  without  knowing 
you  more  ?  you  are  both  equall,  and  alike  to  mee,  yet: 
and  fo  indifferently  affe6led  by  mee,  as  each  of  you  might  10 
be  the  man,  if  the  other  were  away.  For  you  are  reafon- 
able  creatures,  you  haue  vnderflanding,  and  difcourfe.  And 
if  fate  fend  me  an  vnderftanding  husband,  I  haue  no  feare 
at  all,  but  mine  owne  manners  Ihall  make  him  a  good  one. 

QvAR.     Would  I  were  put  forth  to  making  for  you,  then.    15 

Gra.     It  may  be  you  are,  you  know  not  what's  toward 
you:  will  you  confent  to  a  motion  of  mine.  Gentlemen  ? 

WiNW.     What  euer  it  be,  we'll  prefume  reafonableneffe, 
comming  from  you. 

QvAR.     And  fitneffe,  too.  20 

Gra.     I  faw  one  of  you  buy  a  paire  of  tables,  e'en  now. 

WiN-w.     Yes,  heere  they  be,  and  maiden  ones  too,  vn- 
written  in. 

Gra.  The  fitter  for  what  they  may  be  imployed  in. 
You  (hall  write  either  of  you,  heere,  a  word,  or  a  name,  25 
what  you  like  befl ;  but  of  two,  or  three  fyllables  at  mofl : 
and  the  next  perfon  that  comes  this  way  (becaufe  Dejliny 
has  a  high  hand  in  bufineffe  of  this  nature)  I'le  demand, 
which  of  the  two  words,  he,  or  fhe  doth  approue; 
and  according  to  that  fentence,  fixe  my  refolution,  and  30 
affe6lion,  without  change. 

QvAR.     Agreed,  my  word  is  conceiued  already. 

WiN-w.     And  mine  fhall  not  be  long  creating  after. 

Gra.     But  you  fhall   promife,    Gentlemen,    not  to  be 
curious  to  know,  which  of  you  it  is,    taken;  but  giue  me   35 
leaue  to  conceale  that  till  you  haue  brought  me,  either 
home,  or  where  I  may  fafely  tender  my  felfe.  * 


88  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

WiN-w     Why  that's  but  equall. 
QvAR.     Wee  are  pleas'd. 

Gra.     Becaufe  I  will  bind  both  your  indeauours  to  work 
together,  friendly,  and  ioyntly,  each  to  the  others  fortune, 
5   and  haue  my  felfe  fitted  with  fome  meanes,  to   make  him 
that  is  forfaken,  a  part  of  amends. 
[57]       QvAR.     Thefe  conditions  are  very  curteous.     Well  my 
word  is  out  of  the  Arcadia^  then :  Argalus. 
WiN-w.     And  mine  out  of  the  play,  Falemon. 

[Trouble-all  comes  again. 
10       Tro.     Haue  you  any  warrant  for  this.  Gentlemen  ? 
QvAR.     WiN-w.     Ha! 

Tro.     There  mufl  be  a  warrant  had,  beleeue  it. 
WiN-w.     For  what  ? 

Tro.     For  whatfoeuer  it  is,  any  thing  indeede,  no  mat- 
15   ter  what. 

QvA.     S'light,  here's  a  fine  ragged  Prophet,  dropt  downe 
'ithe  nicke! 

Tro.     Heauen  quit  you,  Gentlemen. 
QvA.     Nay,  fi:ay  a  little,  good  Lady,   put  him   to  the 
20  quefl-ion. 

Gra.     You  are  content,  then  ? 
WiN-w.     QvAR.     Yes  yes. 
Gra.     Sir,  heere  are  two  names  written — 
Tro.     Is  ludice  Ouerdoo^  one  ? 
25       Gra.     How,  Sir?     I  pray  you  read  'hem  to  your  felfe, 
it  is  for  a  wager  betweene  thefe  Gentlemen,  and  with  a 
llroake  or  any  difference,  marke  which  you  approue  befl. 
Tro.     They  may  be  both  worfhipfull  names  for  ought  I 
know,  Miflreffe,  but  Adam  Ouerdoo  had  beene  worth  three 
30  of  'hem,  I  affure  you,  in  this  place,  that's  in  plaine  englilh. 
Gra.     This  man  amazes  mee!     I  pray  you,  like  one  of 
'hem.  Sir. 

Tro.     I  doe  like  him  there,  that  has  the  befl  warrant, 
Mifi,reffe,  to  faue  your  longing,  and  (multiply  him)  It  may 

19    little,]  little:  i6g2,  lyib,  W,  G 
24    ludice]  Justice  i6g2y  1716,   W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  89 

be  this.      But  I  am  I  flill  for  lujlice  Ouerdoo,  that's  my  con- 
fcience.     And  quit  you. 

WiN-w.     Is't  done,  Lady  ? 

Gra.     I,  and  flrangely,  as  euer  I  faw!     What  fellow  is 
this  trow  ?  5 

QvA.     No  matter  what,   a  Fortune-teller  wee  ha'made 
him.     Which  is't,  which  is't. 

Gra.      Nay,  did  you  not  promife,  not  to  enquire  ? 

QvA.     S'lid,  I  forgot  that,  pray  you  pardon  mee.   Looke, 
\iQYQs  oxxY  Mercury  couiQ:  The  Licence  arriues  i'the  finefl   10 
time,  too!  'tis  but  fcraping  out  Cokes  his  name,   and  'tis 
done. 

WiN-w.     How  now  lime-twig  ?  hafl  thou  touch'd. 

Edg.     Not  yet.  Sir,   except  you  would  goe  with  mee, 
and  fee't,  it's  not  worth  fpeaking  on.     The  a(5l  is  nothing,    15 
without  a  witneffe.     Yonder  he  is,  your  man  with  the  boxe 
falne  into   the   finefl   company,    and  fo  tranfported  with 
vapours,  that  they  ha'got  in  a  Northren  Clothier,  and  one 
P^ippy^  a  Weflerne  man,  that's  come  to  wraflle  before  my 
Lord  Maior^  anone,  and  Captaine  Whit^  and  one  Val  Cut-   20 
ting^  that  helpes  Captaine  Jordan  to  roare,  a  circling  boy: 
with  whom  your  Nuinps^  is  fo  taken,  that  you  may  flrip 
him  of  his  cloathes,  if  you  will.      Tie  vndertake  to  geld  him 
for  you;  if  you  had  but  a  Surgeon,  ready,    to  feare  him. 
And  Miftreffe  luftice,  there,  is  the  goodefl  woman!    fliee  [S^] 
do's  fo  loue  'hem  all  ouer,  in  termes  of  luflice,  and  the 
Stile  of  authority,  with  her  hood  vpright — that  I  befeech 
you  come  away  Gentlemen,  and  fee't. 

QvAR.     S'light,  I  would  not  lofe  it  for  t\iQ Fayre,  what'll 
you  doe,  Ned'i  3° 

WiN-w.     Why,  llay  heere  about  ior  you,  Miftreffe  Wel- 
borne  muft.  not  be  feene. 

QvA.     Doe  fo,  and  find  out  a  Pried  i'the  meane  time, 
rie  bring  the  Licenfe.     Lead,  which  way  is't  ? 

Edg.     Here,   Sir,  you   are  o'the  backefide  o'the  Booth  35 
already,  you  may  heare  the  noife. 

I    am  I  fllll]  am  still  jOgz,  1716,    W,  G 
35    backefide]  back  W,  G 


90  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 


Act.  IIIJ.      Scene.  IV. 

Knockhvm.     Nordern.     Pvppy.     Cvt- 

TiNG.     Whit.     Edgvvorth.     Qvarlovs. 

OvERDOO.     Waspe.     Bristle. 

T^T'ZT//,  bid  Vail  Culling  continue  the  vapours  for  a  lift, 
^^     IVM,  for  a  lift. 
Nor.     rie  ne  mare,  I'le  ne  mare,  the  eale's  too  meeghty. 
Kno.     How  now!  my  Galloway  Nag,  the  flaggers  ?  ha! 
5    Whit^  gi'him    a  flit  i'the  fore-head.     Cheare  vp,   man,   a 
needle,  and  threed  to  llitch  his  eares.     I'ld  cure  him  now 
an'  I  had  it,  with  a  little  butter,  and  garlike,  long-pepper, 
and   graines.     Where's    my  home  ?    I'le   gi'him    a   mafh, 
prefently,  fhall  take  away  this  dizzineffe. 
lo       Pvp.     Why,  where  are  you  zurs  ?  doe  you  vlinch,  and 
leaue  vs  i'the  zuds,  now  ? 

Nor.     I'le  ne  mare,  I'is  e'en  as  vull  as  a  Paipers  bag, 
by  my  troth,  I. 

Pvp.    Doe  my  Northerne  cloth  zhrinke  i'the  wetting  ?  ha  ? 
15        Kno.     Why,   well  faid,   old    Flea-bitten,   thou'lt    neuer 
tyre,   I   fee.  \^T hey  fall  to  their  vapours,  againe. 

CvT.      No,  Sir,  but  he  may  tire,  if  it  pleafe  him. 
Whi.     Who  told  dee  fho  ?  that  he  vuld  neuer  teer,  man  ? 
CvT.     No  matter  who  told  him  fo,  fo  long  as  he  knowes. 
20       Kno.      Nay,  I  know  nothing.  Sir,  pardon  me  there. 
Edg.     They  are  at  it  flil.  Sir,  this  they  call  vapours. 
Whi.      He  fhall  not  pardon  dee,  Captaine,  dou  fhalt  not 
be  pardon'd.     Pre'de  fhweete  heart  doe  not  pardon  him. 
CvT.      S'light,    I'le   pardon    him,  an'   I    lift,  whofoeuer 
25   faies  nay  to't. 
[cgl        \Here  they  continue  their  game  ^/vapours,  which  is  nonfenfe.     Euery 
man  to  oppofe  the  lajl  man  that  /poke  :  whcthe  it  concern  d  him,  or  no. 

Scenes  IV,   V,  and  part  of  VI,  constitute  in  G  Scene  III, 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  91 

QvAR.     Where's  Nuinps  ?  I  miffe  him. 

Was.     Why,  I  fay  nay  to't. 

QvAR.     O  there  he  is! 

Kno.     To  what  doe  you  fay  nay,  Sir  ? 

Was.     To  any  thing,  whatfoeuer  it  is,  fo  long  as  I  do     5 
not  like  it. 

Whi.     Pardon  me,  little  man,  dou  mufht  like  it  a  little. 

CvT.  No,  hee  mufl  not  like  it  at  all,  Sir,  there  you  are 
i'the  wrong. 

Whi.     I  tinke  I  be,  he  mufht  not  like  it,  indeede.  10 

CvT.  Nay,  then  he  both  mufl,  and  will  like  it.  Sir,  for 
all  you. 

Kno.      If  he  haue  reafon,  he  may  like  it,  Sir. 

Whi.  By  no  meanlh  Captaine,  vpon  reafon,  he  may 
like  nothing  vpon  reafon.  15 

Was.  I  haue  no  reafon,  nor  I  will  heare  of  no  reafon, 
nor  I  will  looke  for  no  reafon,  and  he  is  an  Affe,  that  either 
knowes  any,  or  lookes  for't  from  me. 

CvT.     Yes,  in  fome  fenfe  you  may  haue  reafon.  Sir. 

Was.      I,  in  fome  fenfe,  I  care  not  if  I  grant  you.  20 

Whi.  Pardon  mee,  thou  ougfht  to  grant  him  nothing, 
in  no  fhenfh,  if  dou  doe  loue  dy  flielfe,  angry  man. 

Was.  Why  then,  I  doe  grant  him  nothing;  and  I  haue 
no  fenfe. 

CvT.      'Tis  true,  thou  hafl  no  fenfe  indeed.  25 

Was.  S'lid,  but  I  haue  fenfe,  now  I  thinke  on't  better, 
and  I  will  grant  him  any  thing,  doe  you  fee  ? 

Kno.     He  is  i'the  right,  and  do's  vtter  a  fufficient  vapour. 

CvT.     Nay,  it  is  no  fufficient  vapour,  neither,  I  deny  that. 

Kno.     Then  it  is  a  fweet  vapour.  30 

CvT.     It  may  be  a  fweet  vapour. 

Was.  Nay,  it  is  no  fweet  vapour,  neither.  Sir,  it  flinkes, 
and  rie  fland  to't. 

Whi.  Yes,  I  tinke  it  dofh  fhtinke,  Captaine.  All  vapour 
dofh  fhtinke.  35 

Was.  Nay,  then  it  do's  not  flinke,  Sir,  and  it  fhall  not 
flinke. 


92  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

CvT.     By  your  leaue,  it  may,  Sir. 
Was.     I,  by  my  leaue,  it  may  flinke,  I  know  that. 
Whi.     Pardon  me,  thou  knowefht  nothing,  it  cannot  by 
thy  leaue,  angry  man. 
5        Was.     How  can  it  not  ? 

Kno.     Nay,  neuer  queflion  him,  for  he  is  i'the  right. 
Whi.     Yefh,  I  am  i'de  right,  I  confefh  it,  so  ifh  de  little 
man  too. 

Was.      rie  haue  nothing  confefl,  that  concernes  mee.     I 
10   am  not  i'the  right,  nor  neuer  was  i'the  right,  nor  neuer 
will  be  i'the  right,  while  I  am  in  my  right  minde, 

CvT.  Minde  ?  why,  heere's  no  man  mindes  you,  Sir, 
nor  any  thing  elfe.  {They  drinke  againe. 

[6o]        Pvp.     Vreind,  will  you  mind  this  that  wee  doe  ? 

15  QvA.  Call  you  this  vapours  ?  this  is  fuch  beltching  of 
quarrell,  as  I  neuer  heard.  Will  you  minde  your  bufmeffe, 
Sir? 

Edg.     You  fhall  fee,  Sir. 

Nor.     rie  ne  maire,  my  waimb  warkes  too  mickle  with- 
20   this  auready. 

Edg.  Will  you  take  that,  Mailer  Wafpe,  that  no  body 
fhould  minde  you  ? 

Was.     Why  ?  what  ha'you  to  doe  ?  is't  any  matter  to  you  ? 
Edg.     No,  but  me  thinks  you  fhould  not  be  vnminded, 
25    though. 

Was.     Nor,  I  wu'not  be,   now  I  thinke  on't,   doe  you 

heare,  new  acquaintance,  do's  no  man  mind  me,  fay  you  ? 

CvT.     Yes,  Sir,  euery  man  heere  mindes  you,  but  how  ? 

Was.     Nay,  I  care  as  little  how,  as  you  doe,  that  was 

20   not  my  queflion. 

Whi.  No,  noting  was  ty  queflion,  tou  art  a  learned 
man,  and  I  am  a  valiant  man,  i'faith  la,  tou  fhalt  fpeake 
for  mee,  and  I  vill  fight  for  tee. 

Kno.     Fight  for  him,  Whit  ?    A  groffe  vapour,  hee  can 
3^    fight  for  himfelfe. 

Was.  It  may  be  I  can,  but  it  may  be,  I  wu'not,  how 
then? 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  93 

CvT.     Why,  then  you  may  chufe. 

Was.     Why,  and  Tie  chufe  whether  Tie  chufe  or  no. 

Kno.      I  thinke  you  may,  and  'tis  true;  and  I  allow  it  for 
a  refolute  vapour. 

Was.     Nay,  then,  I  doe  thinke  you  doe  not  thinke,  and     5 
it  is  no  refolute  vapour. 

CvT.     Yes,  in  fome  fort  he  may  allow  you. 

Kno.     In    no    fort,   Sir,   pardon    me,   I   can   allow  him 
nothing.     You  miflake  the  vapour. 

Was.      He  miflakes  nothing.  Sir,  in  no  fort.  10 

Whi.     Yes,  I  pre  dee  now,  let  him  miflake. 

Was.     a  turd  i'your  teeth,  neuer  pre  dee  mee,  for  I  will 
haue  nothing  miflaken. 

Kno.     Turd,   ha  turd?  a  noyfome  vapour,  flrike  Whit. 

[They  fall  by  the  eares. 

OvE.     Why,  Gentlemen,  why  Gentlemen,  I  charge  you    15 
vpon  my  authority,   conferue  the  peace.      In  the   Kings 
name,  and  my  Husbands,  put  vp  your  weapons,  I  fhall  be 
driuen  to  commit  you  my  felfe,  elfe. 

QvA.     Ha,  ha,  ha. 

Was.     Why  doe  you  laugh.  Sir  ?  20 

QvA.     Sir,  you'll  allow  mee  my  chriflian  liberty.     I  may 
laugh,  I  hope. 

CvT.     In  fome  fort  you  may,  and  in  fome  fort  you  may 
not,  Sir. 

Kno.     Nay  in  fome  fort.  Sir,  hee  may  neither  laugh,    25 
nor  hope,  in  this  company. 

Was.     Yes,  then  he  may  both  laugh,  and  hope  in  any   [61] 
fort,  an't  pleafe  him. 

QvA.     Faith,  and  I  will  then,   for  it  doth  pleafe  mee 
exceedingly.  30 

Was.      No  exceeding  neither.  Sir. 

Kno.     No,  that  vapour  is  too  lofty. 

QvA.     Gentlemen,  I  doe  not  play  well  at  your  game  of 
vapours,  I  am  not  very  good  at  it,  but — 

2    and  rie  chufe  whether  Tie  chufe]    then    I'll    choose   whether  I 
choose  G 


94  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

CvT.     Doe  you  heare,   Sir  ?     I  would  fpeake  with  you 
in  circle  ?  [Hee  drawes  a  circle  on  the  ground. 

QvA.     In  circle,  Sir  ?    what  would  you  with  me  in  circle  ? 

CvT.     Can  you  lend  me  a  Piece,  a  Jacobus  ?    in  circle  ? 
5        QvA.     S'lid,   your  circle  will   proue  more  coflly  then 
your  vapours,  then.      Sir,  no,  I  lend  you  none. 

CvT.     Your  beard's  not  well  turn'd  vp,  Sir. 

QvA.      How  Rafcall  ?    are  you  playing  with  my  beard  ? 
rie  breake  circle  with  you.  \^They  draw  all,  and  fight. 

lo       Pvp.     Nor.     Gentlemen,  Gentlemen! 

Kno.      Gather  vp,  Whit.,  gather  vp,  Whit.,  good  vapours. 

OvE.     What  meane  you  ?    are  you   Rebells  ?     Gentle- 
men ?     (hall   I   fend   out   a  Serieant  at  Armes,    or  a   Writ 
o'Rebellion,    againfl   you  ?      Tie   commit   you   vpon    my 
15   woman-hood,  for  a  Riot,  vpon  my  luflice-hood,   if   you 
perfifl. 

Was.     Vpon    your    luflice-hood  ?      Mary    fhite    o'your 
hood,  you'll  commit  ?     Spoke  like  a  true  lullice  of  peace's 
wife,  indeed,  and  a  fine  female  Lawyer!    turd  i'your  teeth 
20   for  a  fee,  now. 

Over.     Why,  Numps,  in  M after  OuerdOo's  name,  I  charge 
you. 

Was.     Good  Miftreffe  Vnderdoo  hold  your  tongne. 

Over.  Alas!  ^ oor e  Nuinps. 
25  Was.  Alas!  and  why  alas  from  you,  I  befeech  you? 
or  why  poore  Numps^  goody  Rich  ?  am  I  come  to  be  pittied 
by  your  tuft  taffata  now  ?  why  Miftreffe,  I  knew  Adam, 
the  Gierke,  your  husband,  when  he  was  Adam  Scriuener, 
and  writ  for  two  pence  a  fheet,  as  high  as  he  beares  his 
30  head  now,  or  you  your  hood,  Dame.  [The  watch  comes  in.] 
What  are  you.  Sir  ? 

Bri.     Wee  be  men,  and  no  Infidells;  what  is  the  matter, 
here,  and  the  noyfes  ?    can  you  tell  ? 

Was.      Heart,    what    ha'you    to    doe  ?      cannot   a   man 
35    quarrell  in  quietneffe  ?  but  hee  muft  be  put  out  on't  by 
you  ?   what  are  you  ? 

Bri.     Why,  wee  be  his  Maiefties  Watch,  Sir. 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  95 

Was.  Watch  ?  S'blood,  you  are  a  fweet  watch,  indeede. 
A  body  would  thinke,  and  you  watch'd  well  a  nights,  you 
Ihould  be  contented  to  fleepe  at  this  time  a  day.  Get  you 
to  your  fleas,  and  your  flocke-beds,  you  Rogues,  your 
kennells,  and  lye  downe  clofe.  5 

Bri.  Downe  ?  yes,  we  will  downe,  I  warrant  you, 
downe  with  him  in  his  Maieflies  name,  downe,  downe 
with  him,  and  carry  him  away,  to  the  pigeon-holes. 

OvE.      I  thanke  you  honefl  friends,   in  the  behalfe  o'the   [52] 
Crowne,  and  the  peace,  and  in  Mafler  Ouerdoo's  name,  for   10 
fuppreffmg  enormities. 

Whi.  Stay,  Brijlle^  heere  i(h  a  noder  brafh  o'drunkards, 
but  very  quiet,  fpeciall  drunkards,  will  pay  dee,  fiue  (hil- 
lings very  well.  Take  'hem  to  dee,  in  de  graifli  o'God: 
one  of  hem  do's  change  cloth,  for  Ale  in  the  Fayre,  here,  15 
te  toder  ifh  a  flrong  man,  a  mighty  man,  my  Lord  Mayors 
man,  and  a  wrafller.  Hee  has  wrafhled  fo  long  with  the 
bottle,  heere,  that  the  man  with  the  beard,  hafh  almolht 
ilreeke  vp  hifh  heelfh. 

Bri.     S'lid,   the  Gierke  o'the  Market,  has  beene  to  cry   20 
him  all  the  Fayre  ouer,  here,  for  my  Lords  feruice. 

Whi.  Tere  he  ilh,  pre  de  talk  him  henfh,  and  make  ty 
befl  on  him.  How  now  woman  o'fhilke,  vat  ailfh  ty 
Ihweet  faifh  ?    art  tou  melancholy  ? 

OvE.     A  little  diflemper'd  with  thefe  enormities;  (hall   25 
I  intreat  a  curtefie  of  you,  Captaine  ? 

Whi.  Intreat  a  hundred,  veluet  voman,  I  vill  doe  it, 
(hpeake  out. 

OvE.     I  cannot  with  modedy  fpeake  it  out,  but — 

Whi.     I  vill  doe  it,  and  more,  and  more,  for  dee.    What   30 
Vrjla,  and't  be  bitch,  and't  be  baud  and't  be! 
.  Vrs.      How  now    Rafcall?    what   roare   you    for?     old 
Pimpe. 

Whi.     Heere,  put  vp  de  cloakes  VrJJi ;  de  purchafe,  pre 
dee  now,  fhweet  VrJ^t,   help  dis  good  braue  voman,   to  a  35 
Jordan,  and't  be. 

34  purchafe]  purchase  ;  17 16,    W:  purchase.  G 


96  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Vrs.  S'lid  call  your  Captaine  Jordan  to  her,  can  you 
not? 

Whi.      Nay,   pre  dee  leaue  dy  confheits,  and  bring  the 
veluet  woman  to  de — 
5        Vrs.     I  bring  her,   hang  her:   heart  mufl  I  find  a  com- 
mon pot  for  euery  punque  i'your  purlews  ? 

Whi.  O  good  voordfh,  Vrjh^  it  ilh  a  guefl  o'veluet, 
i'fait  la. 

Vrs.     Let  her  fell  her  hood,  and  buy  a  fpunge,  with  a 

10  poxe  to  her,   my  veffell,   employed  Sir.     I  haue  but  one, 

and  'tis  the  bottome  of  an  old  bottle.     An  honefl  Pro6lor, 

and  his  wife,  are  at  it,  within,  if  fhee'll  flay  her  time,   fo. 

Whi.     As  foone  afh  tou  canfht  fhwet  Vrjh.     Of  a  valiant 

man  I  tinke  I  am  the  patientfh  man  i'the  world,  or  in  all 

1 5    Smithfield. 

Kno.  How  now  Whit  ?  clofe  vapours,  dealing  your 
leaps  ?    couering  in  corners,  ha  ? 

Whi.     No  fait,  Captaine,  dough  tou  beefht  a  vifhe  man, 
dy  vit  is  a  mile  hence,   now.     I  vas  procuring  a  fhmall 
20  courtefie,  for  a  woman  of  fafhion  here. 

OvE.  Yes,  Captaine,  though  I  am  luflice  of  peace's 
wife,  I  doe  loue  Men  of  warre,  and  the  Sonnes  of  the 
fword,  when  they  come  before  my  husband. 

Kno.     Say'fl  thou  fo   Filly  ?    thou   fhalt  haue  a  leape 
25   prefently,  I'le  horfe  thee  my  felfe,  elfe. 
[63]        Vrs.     Come,  will  you  bring  her  in  now  ?    and  let  her 
talke  her  turne  ? 

Whi.      Gramercy  good  Vrjh^  I  tanke  dee. 
Over.     Mafler  Ouerdoo  fhall  thanke  her. 

10   my  Vessel  is  employed  jdgs,  1716,   W,  G 
21    I  am  luftice]  I  am  a  justice  G  27   talke]  take  lyib,   W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  97 


Act.  IIII.      Scene.  V. 

loHN.     Win.     Vrsla.     Knockhvm. 
Whit.     Overdoo.     Ales.^ 

/^  ood  Ga'mere  Vrs;  JVm,  and  I,  are  exceedingly  beholden 
^"^  to  you,  and  to  Captaine  Jordan,  and  Captaine  JVAit. 
Win,  rie  be  bold  to  leaue  you,  i'this  good  company.  Win: 
for  halfe  an  houre,  or  fo  Win,  while  I  goe,  and  fee  how 
my  matter  goes  forward,  and  if  the  Puppets  be  perfect:  5 
and  then  Tie  come  &  fetch  you,  Win. 

Win.     Will  you  leaue  me  alone  with  two  men,  John  ? 

lOH.  I,  they  are  honefl  Gentlmen  Win,  Captaine  Jor- 
dan, and  Captaine  Whit,  they'll  vfe  you  very  ciuilly,  Win, 
God  b'w'you,  Win.  lo 

Vrs.     What's  her  husband  gone  ? 

Kno.     On  his  falfe,  gallop,  Vrs,  away. 

Vrs.  An'  you  be  right  Bartholmew-hirds^  now  Ihew  your 
felues  fo:  we  are  vndone  for  want  of  fowle  \\hQ  Fayre, 
here.  Here  will  be  Zekiell  Edgworth,  and  three  or  foure  15 
gallants,  with  him  at  night,  and  I  ha'neither  Plouer  nor 
Quaile  for  'hem  :  perfwade  this  betweene  you  two,  to 
become  a  Bird  o'the  game,  while  I  worke  the  veluet 
woman,  within,  (as  you  call  her.) 

Kno.  I  conceiue  thee,  Vrs\  goe  thy  waies,  doefl  thou  20 
heare,  Whitt  is't  not  pitty,  my  delicate  darke  cheflnut  here, 
wijth  the  fine  leane  head,  large  fore-head,  round  eyes,  euen 
mouth,  fharpe  eares,  long  necke,  thinne  crefl,  clofe  withers, 
plaine  backe,  deepe  fides,  fhort  fillets,  and  full  flankes  : 
with  a  round  belly,  a  plumpe  buttocke,  large  thighes,  knit  25 
knees,  flreight  legges,  fhort  paflernes,  fmooth  hoofes,  and 

^  Ales]  Alice  i6g2,  1716,  W 
12    Comma  after  falfe  om.  i6g2,  1716,  W,  G 


98  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

/  fhort  heeles ;  fhould  lead  a  dull  honefl  womans  life,  that 
might  Hue  the  life  of  a  Lady  ? 

Whi.     Yes,  by  my  fait,  and  trot,  it  is,   Captaine  :    de 
honefht  womans  life  is  a  fcuruy  dull  life,  indeed,  la. 
5        Win.     How,   Sir  ?    is  an  honefl  womans  life  a  fcuruy 
life? 

Whi.     Yes  .fait,  fhweet  heart,  beleeue  him,  de  leefe  of 
a  Bond-woman!  but  if  dou  vilt  harken  to  me,  I  vill  make 
tee  a  free-woman,  and  a  Lady:  dou  fhalt  Hue  like  a  Lady, 
10   as  te  Captaine  faifh. 

Kno.     I,  and  be  honefl  too  fometimes:  haue  her  wiers, 
[64]   and  her  tires,  her  greene  gownes,  and  veluet  petticoates. 

Whi.     I,  and  ride  to  Ware  and  Rumford  i'dy  Coafh,  Ihee 
de    Players,  be  in    loue  vit   'hem;    fup  vit   gallantfh,   be 
15    drunke,  and  cofl  de  noting. 
Kno.     Braue  vapours! 

Whi.     And  lye  by  twenty  on  'hem,  if  dou  pleafh  fhweet 
heart. 

Win.     What,  and  be  honefl  flill,  that  were  fine  fport. 
20       Whi.     Tifh  common,  fhweet  heart,  tou  may'fl  doe  it  by 
my  hand:   it  fhall  be  iuflified  to  ty  husbands  faifh,  now: 
tou  fhalt  be  as  honefht  as  the  skinne  betweene  his  hornfh,  la ! 
Kno.     Yes,  and  weare  a  dreffmg,  top,  and  top-gallant, 
to  compare  with  ere  a  husband  on  'hem  all,  for  a  fore-top : 
25   it   is  the  vapour  of  fpirit  in  the  wife,  to  cuckold,  now 
adaies;  as  it  is  the  vapour  of  fafhion,  in  the  husband,  not 
to  fufpe6l.     Your  prying  cat-eyed-citizen,  is  an  abomina- 
ble vapour. 

Win.     Lord,  what  a  f oole  haue  I  beene ! 
30       Whi.     Mend   then,   and   doe  euery  ting  like  a  Lady, 
heereafter,  neuer  know  ty  husband,  from  another  man.* 
Kno.     Nor  any  one  man  from  another,  but  i'the  darke. 
Whi.     I,  and  then  it  ifh  no  difhgrafh  to  know  any  man. 
Vrs.     Helpe,  helpe  here. 
35        Kno.     How  now  ?  what  vapour's  there  ? 

Vrs.     O,  you  are  a  fweet  Ranger\   and  looke  well  to 
your  walks.     Yonder  is  your  Punque  of  Turnbull,  Ramping 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  99 

Ales,  has  falne  vpon  the  poore  Gentlewoman  within,  and 
puU'd  her  hood  ouer  her  eares,  and  her  hayre  through  it. 

[Alice  eners,  beating  he  lujlice's  wife. 

OvE.     Helpe,  helpe,  i'the  Kings  name. 

Ale.     a  mifchiefe  on  you,  they  are  fuch  as  you  are,  that 
vndoe  vs,  and  take  our  trade  from  vs,  with  your  tuft-taffata     5 
hanches. 

Kno.     How  now  Alice\ 

Ale.  The  poore  common  whores  can  ha'no  traffique, 
for  the  priuy  rich  ones;  your  caps  and  hoods  of  veluet, 
call  away  our  cuflomers,  and  lick  the  fat  from  vs.  10 

Vrs.     Peace  you  foule  ramping  lade,  you — 

Ale.     Od's  foote,  you  Bawd  in  greace,  are  you  talking  ? 

Kno.     Why,  Alice,  I  fay. 

Ale.     Thou  Sow  of  Smithfield,  thou. 

Vrs.     Thou  tripe  of  Turnebidl.  15 

Kno.     Cat-a-mountaine-vapours!  ha! 

Vrs.  You  know  where  you  were  taw'd  lately,  both 
lafh'd,  and  flafh'd  you  were  in  Bridewell. 

Ale.  I,  by  the  fame  token,  you  rid  that  weeke,  and 
broake  out  the  bottome  o'the  Cart,  Night-tub.  20 

Kno.  Why,  Lyon  face!  ha!  doe  you  know  who  I  am  ? 
fhall  I  teare  ruffe,  flit  wafl.coat,  make  ragges  of  petticoat  ? 
ha!  goe  to,  vanifli,  for  feare  of  vapours.  Whit,  a  kick, 
Whit,  in  the  parting  vapour.  Come  braue  woman,  take  a 
good  heart,  thou  fhalt  be  a  Lady,  too.  25 

Whl     Yes  fait,  dey  fhal  all  both  be  Ladies,  and  write  [65] 
Madame.     I  vill  do't  my  felfe  for  dem.     Doe,  is  the  vord, 
and   D   is   the  middle    letter  of  Madame,  DD,   put   'hem 
together,  and  make  deeds,  without  which,  all  words  are 
alike,  la.  30 

Kno.  'Tis  true,  Vrfla,  take  'hem  in,  open  thy  wardrope, 
and  fit  'hem  to  their  calling.  Greene-gownes,  Crimfon- 
petticoats,  green  women!  my  Lord  Maiors  green  women! 
guefl^s  o'the  Game,  true  bred.  I'le  prouide  you  a  Coach, 
to  take  the  ayre,  in.  35 

I    Alice  i6g2,  17/6,  W,  G 


loo  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Win.     But  doe  you  thinke  you  can  get  one  ? 

Kno.  O,  they  are  as  common  as  wheelebarrowes,  where 
there  are  great  dunghills.  Euery  Pettifoggers  wife,  has 
'hem,  for  first  he  buyes  a  Coach,  that  he  may  marry,  and 
then  hee  marries  that  hee  may  be  made  Cuckold  in't:  For 
if  their  wiues  ride  not  to  their  Cuckolding,  they  doe  'hem 
no  credit.  Hide,  and  be  hidden;  ride,  and  be  ridden, 
fayes  the  vapour  of  experience. 


Act.  IIIJ.      Scene.  VI. 

Troble-all.     Knockhvm.     Whit. 

QvARLovs.     Edgvvorth.     Bristle. 

Waspe.     Haggise.     Ivstice. 

bvsy.     pvre-craft. 


T>  Y  what  warrant  do's  it  fay  fo  ? 
^       Kno.      Ha!    mad  child  o'th 


lo  Kno.      Ha!    mad  child  o'the  Pye-pouldres^   art  thou 

there  ?  fill  vs  a  frefh  kan,  Vrf^  wee  may  drinke  together. 
Tro.      I  may  not  drinke  without  a  warrant,,  Captaine. 
Kno.     S'lood,  thou'll  not  flale  without  a  warrant,  fhortly. 
Whit^  Giue  mee  pen,  inke  and-paper.     I'l  draw  him  a  war- 
15    rant  prefently. 

1 RO.      It  mufl  be  lujlice  Ouerdoo's  ? 
Kno.     I  know,  man.  Fetch  the  drinke,   Whit. 
VVhi.     I  pre  dee  now,  be  very  brief e,  Captaine;  f or  de 
new  Ladies  flay  for  dee. 
20       Kno.     O,  as  briefe  as  can  be,  here  'tis  already.     Adam 
Ouerdoo. 

Tro.     Why,  now,  I'le  pledge  you,  Captaine. 

Kno.     Drinke  it  off.     I'll  come  to  thee,  anone,  againe. 

2     are  as  common]  are  common  W,  G 
16     Ouerdoo' s  followed  by  a  period  lyjd,   W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  IOI 

QvA.     [^uarlous  to  the  Cutpur/e.]    Well,  Sir.     You  are  now 
difcharg'd :  beware  of  being  fpi'd,  hereafter. 

Edg.     Sir,  will  it  pleafe  you,  enter  in  here,  at   Vrfla's\ 
and  take  part  of  a  filken  gowne,  a  veluet  petticoate,  or  a  [66] 
wrought  fmocke ;  I  am  promifd  fuch :  and  I  can  fpare  any     5 
Gentleman  a  moity.  ^ 

QvA.     Keepe  it  for  your  companions  in  beafllineffe,  I 
am  none  of  'hem,  Sir.     If  I  had  not  already  forgiuen  you 
a  greater  trefpaffe,  or  thought  you  yet  worth  my  beating, 
I  would  inflru(5t  your  manners,  to  whom  you  made  your   10 
offers.     But  goe  your  wayes,  talke  not  to  me,  the  hang- 
man is  onely  fit  to  difcourfe  with  you  ;  the  hand  of  Beadle 
is  too  mercifull  a  punifliment  for  your  Trade  of  life.     I  am 
forry  I  employ'd  this  fellow;  for  he  thinks  me  fuch:  Fa- 
cinus  quos  inquinat,    cequat.      Bnt,    it  was  for  fport.       And    15     " 
would  I   make  it  ferious,  the  getting  of  this   Licence  is 
nothing  to  me,  without  other  circumftances  concurre.     *^ 
do  thinke  how  impertinently  I  labour,  if  the  word  bee  not 
mine,  that  the  ragged  fellow  mark'd:     And  what  aduan- 
tage  I  haue  giuen  Ned  Win-wife  in  this  time  now,  of  work-   20 
ing  her,  though  it  be  mine.     Hee'll  go  neare  to  forme  to 
her  what  a  debauch'd  Rafcall  I  am,  and  fright  her  out  of 
all  good  conceipt  of  me:    I  fhould  doe  fo  by  him,   I  am 
fure,   if   I  had  the  opportunity.     But  my  hope  is  in  her 
temper,  yet;  and  it  mufl  needs  bee  next  to  defpaire,  that  is   25 
grounded  on  any  part  of  a  woman's  difcretion.      I  would 
giue  by  my  troth,  now,  all  I  could  fpare  (to  my  cloathes,  and 
my  fword)  to  meete  my  tatter'd/*?^//!-/!:?)'^^  againe,  who  was 
my  iudge  i'rhe  queflion,  to  know  certainly  whofe  word  he 
has  damn'd  or  fau'd.     For,  till  then,    I  liue  but  vnder  a   3® 
Repreiue.     I  mufl  feeke  him.     Who  be  thefe  ? 

\^Ent.  Waspe  with  the  officers. 

Was.     Sir,  you  are  a  welfh  Cuckold,  and  a  prating  Runt, 
and  no  Conflable. 

Bri.     You  fay  very  well.     Come  put  in  his  legge  ^n  the 
middle  roundell,  and  let  him  hole  there.  35 

I   Scene  IV  begins  here,  and  includes  the  remainder  of  Act  IV  in  G. 
5  any  Gentleman]  a  gentleman  G 


I02  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Was.     You  flinke  of  leeks,  Metheglyn^  and  cheefe.    You 

Rogue. 

^j^U        Bri.     Why,  what  is  that  to  you,  if  you  fit  fweetly  in  the 

flocks  in  the  meane  time  ?  if  you  haue  a  minde  to  flinke 

5    too,  your  breeches  fit  clofe  enough  to  your  bumm.      Sit 

you  merry.  Sir. 

QvA     How  now,  Numps  ? 

Was.     It  is  no  matter,  how ;  pray  you  looke  off. 
QvA.     Nay  I'll  not  offend  you,  Numps.     I  thought  you 
lo   had  fate  there  to  be  feen. 

Was.     And  to  be  fold,  did  you  not  ?    pray  you  mind 
your  bufineffe,  an'  you  haue  any. 

QvA.     Cry  you  mercy,  Numps.     Do's  your  leg  lie  high 
enough  ? 
15        Bri.     How  now,  neighbour  Haggife,  what  fayes  lujlice 
Ouerdos  worfhip,  to  the  other  offenders  ? 

Hag.  Why,  hee  fayes  iufl  nothing,  what  fhould  hee 
fay  ?  Or  where  fhould  he  fay  ?  He  is  not  to  be  found, 
Man.  He  ha'not  been  feen  i'the  Fayre,  here,  all  this  liue- 
20  long  day,  neuer  fince  feuen  a  clocke  i'the  morning.  His 
Clearks  know  not  what  to  thinke  on't.  There  is  no  Court 
of  Pie-poulders  yet.      Heere  they  be  return'd. 

Bri.  What  fhall  be  done  with  'hem,  then  ?  in  your  dif- 
cretion  ? 
[67]  Hag.  I  thinke  wee  were  befl  put  'hem  in  the  flocks, 
in  difcretion  (there  they  will  be  fafe  in  difcretion)  for 
the  valour  of  an  houre,  or  fuch  a  thing,  till  his  worfhip 
come. 

Bri     It  is  but  a  hole    matter,    if  wee  doe.    Neighbour 

30   Haggife,  come.   Sir,   heere  is  company  for  you,  heaue  vp 

the  flocks.       \As  they  open  thejlockes,  '^2S.'^Qputs  his  Jhooe  on  his  hand, 

andjlips  it  in  for  his  legge. 

Was.     I  fhall  put  a  tricke  vpon  your  welfh  diligence, 
perhaps. 

Bri.     Put  in  your  legge.  Sir. 

30   Haggife  followed  by  a  semicolon  ly  16,   W,  G     .     .     .     you  followed 
by  a  semicolon  1716,   W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  103 

QvA.     What,  Rabby  Bufy  !  is  hee  come  ? 

\^They  bring  Bufy,  and  put  him  in. 

Bvs.  I  doe  obey  thee,  the  Lyon  may  roare,  but  he  can- 
not bite.  I  am  glad  to  be  thus  feparated  from  the  heathen 
of  the  land,  and  put  apart  in  the  flocks,  for  the  holy  caufe. 

Was.     What  are  you,  Sir  ?  5 

Bvs.  One  that  reioyceth  in  his  afflidlion,  and  fitteth 
here  to  prophefie,  the  deflru(5lion  of  Fayres  and  May-games, 
IVakes,  and  Whitfon-ales^  and  doth  figh  and  groane  for  the 
reformation,  of  thefe  abufes. 

Was.     And  doe  you  figh,  and  groane  too,  or  reioyce  in   10 
your  afflidlion  ? 

Ivs.  I  doe  not  feele  it,  I  doe  not  thinke  of  it,  it  is  a 
thing  without  mee.  Adam,  thou  art  aboue  thefe  battries, 
thefe  contumelies.  In  te  manca  ruit  fortuna,  as  thy  friend 
Horace  faies;  thou  art  one.  Quern  neque pauperies,  neque  mors,  15 
neque  vincula  terrent,.  And  therefore  as  another  friend  of 
thine  faies,  (I  thinke  it  be  thy  friend  Perfms)  Non  te  qucefiue- 
ris  extra. 

QvA.  What's  heere?  a  Stoick  i'the  flocks  ?  the  Foole 
is  turn'd  Philofopher.  20 

Bvs.  Friend,  I  will  leaue  to  communicate  my  fpirit 
with  you,  if  I  heare  any  more  of  thofe  fuperftitious  reliques, 
thofe  lifts  of  Latin,  the  very  rags  of  Rome,  and  patches  of 
Poperie. 

Was.     Nay,  an'  you  begin  to  quarrel.   Gentlemen,  I'll    25 
leaue  you.    I  ha'paid  for  quarrelling  too  lately:  lookeyou, 
a  deuice,  but  (hifting  in  a  hand  for  a  foot.     \^He  gets  out.]    God 
b'w'you. 

Bvs.     Wilt  thou  then  leaue  thy  brethren  in  tribulation  ? 

Was.     For  this  once.  Sir.  30 

Bvs.  Thou  art  a  halting  Neutrall  ftay  him  there,  ftop 
him :  that  will  not  endure  the  heat  of  perfecution. 

Bri.     How  now,  what's  the  matter  ? 

Bvs.     Hee  is  fled,  he  is  fled,  and  dares  not  fit  it  out. 

Bri.     What,  has  he  made  an  efcape,  which  way  ?  follow,    35 
neighbour  Haggife. 


I04  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

PvR.     O  me!  in  the  flocks  !  haue  the  wicked  preuail'd? 
Bvs.     Peace  religious  filler,   it  is  my  calling,   comfort 
your  felfe,  an  extraordinary  calling,  and  done  for  my  bet- 
ter Handing,  my  furer  (landing,  hereafter. 

[  The  mad-man  enters. 
5       Tro.     By  whofe  warrant,  by  whofe  warrant,  this  ? 
QvA.     O,  here's  my  man!  dropt  in,  I  look'd  for. 
[68]       Tvs.     Ha! 

PvR.     O  good  Sir,  they  haue  fet  the  faithfull,  here  to  be 

wonder'd  at;  and  prouided  holes,  for  the  holy  of  the  land. 

lo       Tro.     Had   they  warrant  for   it?    fhew'd  they  lujlicce 

Ouerdoo's  hand  ?  if  they  had  no  warrant,  they  Ihall  anfwer  it. 

Bri.     Sure  you  did  not  locke  the  Hocks  fufficiently, 

neighbour  Toby  ! 

Hag.     No!  fee  if  you  can  lock  'hem  better. 
15       Bri.     They  are  very  fufficiently  lock'd,  and  truely,  yet 
fome  thing  is  in  the  mater. 

Tro.  True,  your  warrant  is  the  matter  that  is  in 
queflion,  by  what  warrant  ? 

Bri.     Mad  man,  hold  your  peace,  I  will  put  you  in  his 
20  roome  elfe,  in  the  very  fame  hole,  doe  you  fee  ? 
QvA.     How!  is  hee  a  mad-man! 

Tro.     Shew  me  lujlice  Ouerdoo's  warrant.     I  obey  you. 
Hag.     You  are  a  mad  foole,  hold  your  tongue. 
Tro.     \xvlujiice  Ouerdoo's  name,  [Shewes  his  Kanne.']  I  drinke 
25  to  you,  and  here's  my  warrant. 

Ivs.     Alas  poore  wretch !  how  it  earnes  my  heart  for  him ! 

QvA.     If  hee  be  mad,  it  is  in  vaine  to  queflion  him.     I'le 

try  though,  friend :  there  was  a  Gentlewoman,  fliew'd  you 

two  names,   fome   houre    fince,  Argalus   and  Palemon^  to 

30  marke  in  a  booke,  which  of  'hem  was  it  you  mark'd  ? 

Tro.  I  marke  no  name,  but  Adam  Ouerdoo^  that  is  the 
name  of  names,  hee  onely  is  thefufficient  Magiflrate;  and 
that  name  I  reuerence,  (hew  it  mee. 

26  earnes]  yearns  W,  G 

28  try  though,]  try  though.  i6g2,  1716,  W:   try  him  though. —  G 

29  houre]  hours  1716,  JV,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  105 

QvA.  This  fellowes  madde  indeede:  I  am  further  off, 
now,  then  afore. 

Ivs.  I  fhall  not  breath  in  peace,  till  I  haue  made  him 
fome  amends. 

QvA.     Well,  I  will  make  another  vfe  of  him,  is  come  in     5 
my  head:  I  haue  a  nefl  of  beards  in  my  Truncke,  one  fome 
thing  like   his.  S^The  watchmen  come  back againe. 

Bri.  This  mad  foole  has  made  mee  that  I  know  not 
whether  I  I  haue  lock'd  the  flocks  or  no,  I  thinke  I  lock'd 
'hem.  10 

Tro.  Take  Adam  Ouerdoo  in  your  minde,  and  feare 
nothing. 

Bri.  S'lid,  madneffe  it  felfe,  hold  thy  peace,  and  take 
that. 

Tro.     Strikefl  thou  without  a  warrant  ?  take  thou  that.    15 

[  The  mad-man  fights  with  'hem,  and  they  leaue  open  thejlocks. 

Bvs.  Wee  are  deliuered  by  miracle;  fellow  in  fetters, 
let  vs  not  refufe  the  meanes,  this  madneffe  was  of  the 
fpirit:  The  malice  of  the  enemy  hath  mock'd  it  felfe. 

Pvr.  Mad  doe  they  call  him!  the  world  is  mad  in 
error,  but  hee  is  mad  in  truth:  I  loue  him  o'the  fudden,  20 
(the  cunning  man  fayd  all  true)  and  Ihall  loue  him  more, 
and  more.  How  well  it  becomes  a  man  to  be  mad  in 
truth!  O,  that  I  might  be  his  yoake-fellow,  and  be  mad 
with  him,  what  a  many  (hould  wee  draw  to  madneffe  in  [69] 
truth,  with  vs!  ^      \^The  watch  mif sing  them  are  affrighted.         25 

Bri.  How  now!  all  fcap'd?  where's  the  womanl  it  is 
witchcraft!  Her  veluet  hat  is  a  witch,  o'my  confcience, 
or  my  key!  t'one.  The  mad-man  was  a  Diuell,  and  I  am 
an  Affe ;  fo  bleffe  me,  my  place,  and  mine  office. 


io6  Bartholmew  Fayre. 


Act.  v.      Scene.  I. 
Lanthorne.     Filcher.     Sharkwel. 

WEll,  Lucke  and  Saint  Barthclnuw ;  out  with  the 
figne  of   our  inuention,   in  the  name  of  Wit^ 
and  do  you  beat  the  Drum,  the  while;   All  the 
fowle  i'the  Fayre,  I  meane,  all  the  dirt  in  Smith- 
5  field,  (that's  one  of  Mailer  Littlewifs  Carwhitchets  now)  will 
be  throwne  at  our  Banner  to  day,   if  the  matter  do's  not 
pleafe  the  people.      O  the  Motions,  that  I  Lanthorne  Leather- 
head  haue  giuen  light  to,  i'my  time,  fince  my  Mailer  Pod 

dyed !        [Pod  woj  a  Mafter  of  motions  before  him.'\     lerufaUm   was 

lo   a  ilately  thing ;  and  fo  was  Niniue,  and  the  citty  of  Norwich, 

and  Sodom  and  Gomorrah-,  with  the  rifing  o'the  prentifes; 

and  pulling  downe  the  bawdy  houfes  there,  vpon  Shroud- 

Tu^fday,    but  the  Gunpowder-plot,  there  was  a  get-penny! 

I  haue  prefented  that  to  an  eighteene,   or  twenty  pence 

15    audience,  nine  times  in  an  aftemoone.     Your  home-borne 

proie^ls  proue  euer  the  beil,  they  are  fo  eaiie,  and  familiar, 

they  put  too  much  learning  i 'their  things  now  o'dayes: 

and  that  I  feare  will  be  the  fpoile  o'this.     Little-wit  ?     I 

fay,  Mickle-wit\    if  not  too  mickle!    looke  to  your  gather- 

20    ing  there,  good  man  Filcher, 

FiL.     I  warrant  you.  Sir. 

Lan.     And  there  come  any  Gentlefolks,  take  two  pence 
a  piece,  Sharkwell. 

Sha.     I  warrant  you.  Sir,  three  pence,  an'  we  can. 


Bartholmev-v  Fayre.  107 


Act.  v.      Scene.  II.  [70] 

IVSTICE.       VVlN-WIFE.       GrACE.       QvAR- 
LOVS.       PVRE-CRAFT. 

[  The  Itijiice  comes  in  like  a  Porter.  . 
'nPHis  later  difguife,  I  haue  borrow'd  of  a  Porter,  fhall 
carry  me  out  to  all  my  great  and  good  ends ;  which 
how  euer  interrupted,  wereneuer  deflroyed  in  me:  neither 
is  the  houre  of  my  feuerity  yet  come,  to  reueale  my  felfe, 
wherein  cloud-like,  I  will  breake  out  in  raine,  and  haile,  5 
lightning,  and  thunder,  vpon  the  head  of  enormity.  Two 
maine  works  I  haue  to  profecute:  firfl,  one  is  to  inuent 
fome  fatisfacSlion  for  the  poore,  kinde  wretch,  who  is  out 
of  his  wits  for  my  fake,  and  yonder  I  fee  him  comming,  I 
will  walke  afide,  and  proie6t  for  it.  10 

WiN.^    I  wonder  where  Tom  Quarlous  is,  that  hee  returnes 
not,  it  may  be  he  is  flrucke  in  here  to  feeke  vs. 

Gra.     See,  heere's  our  mad-man  againe. 

QvA.     I  haue  made  my  felfe  as  like  him,  as  his  gowne, 
and  cap  will  giue  me  leaue.  15 

[Quarlous  in  the  habit  of  the  mad-man  is  mijlaken  by  M""'  Pure-craft. 

PvR.     Sir,  I  loue  you,   and  would  be  glad  to  be  mad 
with  you  in  truth. 

WiN-w.     How !    my  widdow  in  loue  with  a  mad-man  ? 

PvR.     Verily,  I  can  be  as  mad  in  fpirit,  as  you. 

QvA.     By  whofe  warrant  ?    leaue  your  canting.     Gen-   20 
tlewoman,  haue  I  found  you  ?    (faue  yee,   quit  yee,   and 
multiply  yee)  where's  your  booke  ?    'twas  a  fufhcient  name 
I  mark'd,  let  me  fee't,  be  not  afraid  to  (hew't  me. 

\^He  de fires  to  fee  the  booke  of  Miflreffe  Grace. 

Gra.     What  would  you  with  it.  Sir  ? 

QvA.     Marke  it  againe,  and  againe,  at  your  feruice.  25 

I   later]  latter  1716,  W,  G 


io8  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Gra.     Heere  it  is,  Sir,  this  was  it  you  mark'd. 
QvA.     Palemon  ?  fare  you  well,  fare  you  well. 
WiN-w.      How,  Palemon  ! 

Gra.     Yes  faith,  hee  has  difcouer'd  it  to  you,  now,  and 
5   therefore  'twere  vaine  to  difguife  it  longer,  I  am  yours. 
Sir,  by  the  benefit  of  your  fortune. 

WiN-w.     And  you  haue  him  Miflreffe,  beleeue  it,  that 
fhall  neuer  giue  you  caufe  to  repent  her  benefit,  but  make 
you  rather  to  thinke  that  in  this  choyce,  fhe  had  both  her 
lo   eyes. 

Gra.     I  defire  to  put  it  to  no  danger  of  protellation. 
QvA.     Palemon^  the  word,  and  Win-wife  the  man  ? 
[71]        PvR.      Good  Sir,  vouchfafe  a  yoakefellow  in  your  mad- 
neffe,   fhun  not    one   of   the  fandlified  fiflers,   that  would 
15    draw  with  you,  in  truth. 

QvA.  Away,  you  are  a  heard  of  hypocriticall  proud 
Ignorants,  rather  wilde,  then  mad.  Fitter  for  woods,  and 
the  fociety  of  beafts  then  houfes,  and  the  congregation  of 
men.  You  are  the  fecond  part  of  the  fociety  of  Canters^ 
20  Outlawes  to  order  and  Difcipline^  and  the  onely  priuiledg'd 
Church-robbers  of  Chrijlendome.  Let  me  alone.  Palemon, 
the  word,  and  Winwife  the  man  ? 

PvR.      I   mufl  vncover  my  felfe  vnto  him,    or   I  fhall 

neuer  enioy  him,  for  all  the  cunning  mens  promifes.      Good 

25    Sir,  heare  mee,  I  am  worth  fixe  thoufand  pound,  my  loue 

to  you,   is  become  my  racke,   I'll  tell  you  all,   and  the 

truth :  fince  you  hate  the  hyporifie  of  the  party-coloured 

brother-hood.     Thefe  feuen  yeeres,  I  haue  beene  a  wilfuU 

holy  widdow,  onely  to  draw  feafls,.and  gifts  from  my  in- 

30   tangled  fuitors:  I  am  alfo  by  office,  an  affifling  fijler  of 

the  Deacons,  and  a  deuourer,  in  flead  of  a  diflributer  of 

the  alms.     I  am  a  fpeciall  maker  of  marriages  for  our 

decayed  Brethren,  with  our  rich  widdowes  ;  for  a  third  part 

of  their  wealth,  when  they  are  marryed,  for  the  reliefe  of 

35   the  poore  ele^ :  as  alfo  our  poore  handfome  yong  Virgins, 

with   our   wealthy    Batchelors,    or  Widdowers;  to    make 

them  fleale  from  their  husbands,  when  I  haue  confirmed 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  109 

them  in  the  faith,  and  got  all  put  into  their  cuflodies. 
And  if  I  ha'not  my  bargaine,  they  may  fooner  turne  a 
fcolding  drab,  in  to  a  filent  Mitiijler^  then  make  me  leaue 
pronouncing  reprobation^  and  damnation  vnto  them.  Our 
elder,  Zeale-of-the-land^  would  haue  had  me,  but  I  know  5 
him  to  be  the  capitall  Knaue  of  the  land,  making  him- 
felfe  rich,  by  being  made  Feoffee  in  trufl  to  deceafed  Breth- 
ren^ and  coozning  their  heyres^  by  fwearing  the  abfolute 
gift  of  their  inheritance.  And  thus  hauing  eas'd  my  con- 
fcience,  and  vtter'd  my  heart,  with  the  tongue  of  my  loue :  10 
enioy  all  my  deceits  together.  I  befeech  you.  I  fhould 
not  haue  reuealed  this  to  you,  but  that  in  time  I  thinke 
you  are  mad,  and  I  hope  you'll  thinke  mee  fo  too.  Sir  ? 

QvA.  Stand  afide,  I'le  anfwer  you,  prefently.  {^He  con- 
fider  with  himfelfe  of  it.'\  Why  fhould  not  I  marry  this  fixe  15 
thoufand  pound,  now  I  thinke  on't  ?  and  a  good  trade  too, 
that  fhee  has  befide,  ha  ?  The  tother  wench,  Wimvife,  is 
fure  of  ;  there's  no  expecStation  for  me  there  !  here  I  may 
make  my  felfe  fome  fauer,  yet,  if  fhee  continue  mad, 
there's  the  queflion.  It  is  money  that  I  want,  why  fhould  20 
I  not  marry  the  money,  when  'tis  offer'd  mee  ?  I  haue  a 
Licenfe  and  all,  it  is  but  razing  out  one  name,  and  putting 
in  another.  There's  no  playing  with  a  man's  fortune  !  I 
am  refolu'd  !  I  were  truly  mad,  an'  I  would  not  !  well, 
come  your  wayes,  follow  mee,   an'  you  will  be  mad,  I'll    25 

fhew  you  a  warrant !  \He  takes  her  along  with  him, 

PvR.      Mofl  zealoufly,  it  is  that  I  zealoufly  defire. 

I  vs.     Sir,  let  mee  fpeake  with  you.       \^The  luftice  calls  him. 

QvA.      By  whofe  warrant  ?  [72] 

Ivs.     The  warrant  that  you  tender,  and  refpe6t  fo  ;  luf-   30 
tice  Ouerdoo's  !   I  am  the  man,   friend   Trouble-ail^   though 
thus  difguis'd  (as  the  carefull   Magijlrate  ought)   for  the 
good   of  the  Republique,  in  the  Fayre,,  and  the  weeding 

7   being  made  Feoffee\  being  made  a  Feoffee  lyid,  W,  G 
15    fhould  not  I]  should  I  not  W,  G 
17    Comma  after  Winiuife  om.  j6g2,  17 16,  Wy  G 
20   fhould  I  not]  should  not  I  1716,  W,  G 


no  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

out  of  enormity.  Doe  you  want  a  houfe  or  meat,  or 
drinke,  or  cloathes  ?  fpeake  whatfoeuer  it  is,  it  fhall  be 
fupplyed  you,  what  want  you  ? 

QvA.      Nothing  but  jour  warrant. 
5        Ivs.      My  warrant  ?  for  what  ? 

QvA.     To  be  gone.  Sir. 

Ivs.     Nay,  I  pray  thee  flay,  I  am  ferious,  and  haue  not 
many  words,    nor   much   time   to    exchange   with   thee  ; 
thinke  what  may  doe  thee  good, 
lo       QvA.     Your  hand  and  feale,  will  doe  me  a  great  deale 
of  good  ;  nothing  elfe  in  the  whole  Fayre,  that  I  know. 

Ivs.     If  it  were  to  any  end,  thou  fhould'll  haue  it  will- 
ingly. 

QvA.     Why,   it  will  fatisfie  me,  that's   end  enough,  to 
15   looke  on  ;  an'  you  will  not  gi'it  mee,  let  me  goe. 

Ivs.     Alas  !  thou  (halt  ha'it  prefently:  I'll  but  llep  into 
the  Scriueners,  hereby,  and  bring  it.     Doe  not  goe  away. 

\^The  \\x^\c% goes  out. 

QvA.     Why,   this  mad  mans  fhape,   will  proue  a  very 

fortunate  one,  I  thinke  !  can  a  ragged  robe  produce  thefe 

20  effe6ls  ?  if  this  be  the  wife  luflice,  and  he  bring  mee  his 

hand,  I  fhall  goe  neere  to  make  fome  vfe  on't.     Hee  is 

come  already  !  {and  returns. 

Ivs.     Looke  thee  !  heere  is  my  hand  and  feale,   Adam 

Ouerdoo,  if  there  be  any  thing  to  be  written,  aboue  in  the 

25    paper,   that  thou  want'fl  now,  or  at  any  time  hereafter  ; 

thinke  on't  ;  it  is  my  deed,  I  deliuer  it  fo,  can  your  friend 

write  ? 

QvA.     Her  hand  for  a  witneffe,  and  all  is  well. 

Ivs.       With  all  my  heart.  {Hee  vrgeth  Miftreffe  Purecraft. 

30  QvA.  Why  fhould  not  I  ha'the  confcience,  to  make 
this  a  bond  of  a  thoufand  pound  ?  now,  or  what  I  would 
elfe? 

Ivs.     Looke  you,   there  it  is  ;  and  I  deliuer  it  as  my 
deede  againe. 

24   in  the  paper]  in  that  Paper  17 16,  W,  G 
31    Interrogation  point  after  pound  om.  i6g2,  1716,  W,  G 


BaRTHOLMEVV    FaYRE.  Ill 

QvA.     Let  vs  now  proceed  in  madneffe. 

[He  takes  her  in  with  him. 
Ivs.  Well,  my  confcience  is  much  eas'd ;  I  ha'done  my 
part,  though  it  doth  him  no  good,  yet  Adam  hath  offer'd 
fatisfa6lion !  The  fling  is  remoued  from  hence  :  poore 
man,  he  is  much  alter'd  with  his  affli6lion,  it  has  brought  5 
him  low!  Now,  for  my  other  worke,  reducing  the  young 
man  (I  haue  follow'd  fo  long  in  loue)  from  the  brinke  of 
his  bane,  to  the  center  of  fafety.  Here,  or  in  fome  fuch 
like  vaine  place,  I  fhall  be  fure  to  finde  him.  I  will  waite 
the  good  time.  10 


Act.  V.       Scene.  IIJ.  [73] 

Cokes.     Shakrvvel.     Ivstice.     Fil- 

CHER.       lOHN.       LaNTERNE. 

P_rOw  now  ?  what's  here  to  doe  ?  friend,   art  thou  the 
Majler  of  the  Monuments  ? 

Sha.     'Tis  a  Motion,  an't  pleafe  your  worfhip. 

Ivs.     My  phantaflicall  brother  in  Law,   Mafler  Barthol- 
mew  Cokes  !  i^ 

COK.  A  Motion,  what's  that  ?  \^He  reads  the  Bill.'\  The 
ancient  moderne  hiflory  of  Hero,  and  Leander,  otherwife 
called  The  Touchjlone  of  true  Loue,  with  as  true  a  tryall  of 
friendfhip,  betweene  Damon^  and  Pithias,  two  faithfull 
friends  o'the  Bankfide  ?  pretty  i'faith,  what's  the  mean-  20 
ing  on't  ?  is't  an  Enter lude  ?  or  what  is't  ? 

FiL.     Yes  Sir,  pleafe  you  come  neere,  wee'U  take  your 
money  within. 

CoK.     Backe    with  thefe  children;  they   doe  fo  follow 
mee  vp   and  downe.  [The  boyes  o'the  'Pz.yre  follow  him.        25 

11    Scene  III  in  G  begins  here,  and  includes  the  remainder  of  Act  V. 


112  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

loH.     By  your  leaue,  friend. 
FiL.     You  mufl  pay,  Sir,  an'  you  goe  in. 
loH.     Who,  I  ?     I  perceiue  thou  know'ft  not  mee:  call 
the  Mafler  o'the  Motion. 
5        Sha     What,    doe   you    not    know   the   Author^    fellow 
Flicker  ?  you  mufl  take  no  money  of  him ;  he  mull  come 
in  gratis-.  M"".  Littlewit  is  a  voluntary;  he  is  the  Author. 

loH.     Peace,   fpeake  not  too  lowd,   I    would  not  haue 
any  notice  taken,  that  I  am  the  Author.,  till  wee  fee  how  it 
lo   paffes. 

CoK.     Mafler  Littlewit^  how  do'fl  thou  ? 
loH.     Mafler  Cokes  !  you  are  exceeding  well  met :  what, 
in  your  doublet,  and  hofe,  without  a  cloake,  or  a  hat  ? 
CoK.      I  would  I  might  neuer  flirre,  as  I  am  an  honefl 
15   man,  and  by  that  fire;  I  haue  lofl  all  i'the  Fayre^   and  all 
my  acquaintance  too;  did'ft  thou   meet  any  body  that  I 
know,    Mafler   Littlewit  ?    my   man   Numps^    or    my   fifler 
Ouerdoo,   or  Miflreffe   Grace  ?    pray  thee   Mafler   Littlewit.^ 
lend  mee  fome  money  to  fee  the  Interlude^  here.      Tie  pay 
20  thee  againe,  as  I  am   a   Gentleman.     If  thou'lt  but  carry 
mee  home,  I  haue  money  enough  there. 

loH.      O,  Sir,  you  fhall  command  it,  what,  will  a  crowne 
ferue  you  ? 
[74]        CoK.     I  think  it  well,  what  do  we  pay  for  comming  in, 
25   fellowes  ? 

FiL.     Two  pence,  Sir. 

CoK.     Two  pence  ?  there's  twelue  pence,  friend;  Nay,  I 
am  a  Gallant^  as  fimple  as  I   looke  now;  if  you  fee  mee 
with  my  man  about  me,  and  my  Artillery^  againe. 
30       loH.     Your  man  was  i'the  Stocks,  ee'n  now.  Sir. 
CoK.     Who,  Numps  ? 
loH.     Yes  faith. 

CoK.     For  what  i'faith,  I  am  glad  o'that ;  remember  to 
tell  me  on't  anone;  I  haue  enough,  now  !     What  manner 
35    of  matter  is  this,  M^  Littlewit  ?     What  kind  of  A^ors  ha' 
you  ?  Are  they  good  A6lors  ? 

24   well]  will  j6g2,  1716,   W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  113 

loH.  Pretty  youthes,  Sir,  all  children  both  old  and 
yong,  heer's  the  Mafler  of  'hem — 

(Lan.  [Leatherhead  whifpers  to  Littlwit.]  Call  me  not  Leather- 
head^  but  Lanterne.) 

loH.     Mafler  Lanterne,  that  giues  light  to  the  bufineffe,      5 

CoK.  In  good  time,  Sir,  I  would  faine  fee  'hem,  I 
would  be  glad  drinke  with  the  young  company;  which  is 
the  Tiring-houfe  ? 

Lan.     Troth,  Sir,  our  Tiring-houfe  is  fomewhat  little, 
we  are  but  beginners,   yet,   pray  pardon  vs;  you  cannot   10 
goe  vpright  in't. 

CoK.  No  ?  not  now  my  hat  is  off  ?  what  would  you 
haue  done  with  me,  if  you  had  had  me,  feather,  and  all, 
as  I  was  once  to  day  ?  Ha'you  none  of  your  pretty 
impudent  boyes,  now;  to  bring  flooles,  fill  Tabacco,  fetch  15 
Ale,  and  beg  money,  as  they  haue  at  other  houfes  !  let  me 
fee  fome  o'your  A6lors. 

Ion.  Shew  him  'hem,  Ihew  him  'hem.  Mafler  Lanterne, 
this  is  a  Gentleman,  that  is  a  fauorer  of  the  quality. 

Ivs.     I,  the  fauouring  of  this  licencious  quality,  is  the    20 
confumption  of  many  a  young  Gentleman;  a  pernicious 
enormity.  \He  brings  them  out  in  a  basket. 

CoK.     What,  doe  they  line  in  baskets  ? 

Lea.  They  doe  lye  in  a  basket,  Sir,  they  are  o'the 
fmall  Players.  25 

CoK.  Thefe  be  Players  minors,  indeed.  Doe  you  call 
thefe  Players  ? 

Lan.  They  are  A^ors,  Sir,  and  as  good  as  any,  none 
difprais'd,  for  dumb  fhowes:  indeed,  I  am  the  mouth  of 
'hem  all  !  30 

CoK.  Thy  mouth  will  hold  'hem  all.  I  thinke,  one 
Taylor,  would  goe  neere  to  beat  all  this  company,  with  a 
hand  bound  behinde  him. 

loH.  I,  and  eate  'hem  all,  too,  an'  they  were  in  cake- 
bread.  35 

7  glad  drinke]  glad  to  drink  W,  G 


114  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

CoK.  I  thanke  you  for  that,  Mafter  Littlewit^  a  good  iefl ! 
which  is  your  Burbage  now  ? 

Lan.     What  meane  you  by  that,  Sir  ? 
CoK.     Your  befl  A^or.     Your  Field  ? 
5        loH.     Good  ifaith  !  you  are  euen  with  me,^  Sir. 

Lan.     This  is  he,  that  a6ls  young  Leander^  Sir.      He  is 

extreamly  belou'd  of  the  womenkind,  they  doe  fo  affe6l 

[75]  his  adlion,  the  green  gameflers,  that  come  here,  and  this 

is    louely   Hero\   this   with   the  beard,    Damon;  and    this 

10   i^rQ.t\.y  Pythias',  this  is  the  ghofl  of  YAxi^  Dionyfius  in  the 

habit  of  a  fcriuener:  as  you  fhall  fee  anone,  at  large. 

CoK.  Well  they  are  a  ciuill  company,  I  like  'hem  for 
that ;  they  offer  not  to  fleere,  nor  geere,  nor  breake  iefls, 
as  the  great  Players  doe:  And  then,  there  goes  not  fo 
15  much  charge  to  the  feafling  of  'hem,  or  making  'hem 
drunke,  as  to  the  other,  by  reafon  of  their  littleneffe. 
Doe  they  vfe  to  play  perfecSl  ?     Are  they  neuer  flufler'd  ? 

Lan.     No,  Sir,  I  thanke  my  induflry,  and  policy  for  it; 
they  are  as  well  gouern'd  a  company,  though  I  fay  it — 
20   And  heere  is  young  Leander,  is  as  proper  an  A^or  of  his 
inches;  and  fhakes  his  head  like  an  hofller. 

CoK.     But  doe  you  play  it  according  to  the  printed 
booke  ?  I  haue  read  that. 
Lan.     By  no  meanes,  Sir. 
25        CoK.     No  ?     How  then  ? 

Lan.  a  better  way.  Sir,  that  is  too  learned,  and  poet- 
icall  for  our  audience;  what  doe  they  know  what  Hellef- 
pont  is  ?  Guilty  of  true  loues  blood  ?  or  what  Abidos  is  ? 
or  the  other  Sejios  hight  ?  ' 

30       CoK.     Th'art  i'the  right,  I  do  not  Jcnow  my  felfe. 

Lan.  No,  I  haue  entreated  Mafler  Littlewit^  to  take  a 
little  paines  to  reduce  it  to  a  more  familiar  flraine  for  our 
people. 

CoK.     How,  I  pray  thee,  good  M^  Littlewit  ? 
35        loH.     It  pleafes  him  to  make  a  matter  of  it.  Sir.     But 
^      there  is  no  fuch  matter  I  affure  you :  I  haue  onely  made  it 
a  little  eafie,  and  moderne  for  the  times,  Sir,  that's  all ;  As, 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  115 

for  the  Hellefpont  I  imagine  our  Thames  here;  and  then 
Lea?ider^  I  make  a  Diers  fonne,  about  Fuddle-wharf e:  and 
Hero  a  wench  o'the  Banke-fide^  who  going  ouer  one  morn- 
ing, to  old  fifh-flreet;  Leander  fpies  her  land  at  Trigf- 
Jlayers^  and  falls  in  loue  with  her:  Now  do  I  introduce  5 
Cupid^  hauing  Metamorphosed  himfelfe  into  a  Drawer,  and 
hee  flrikes  Hero  in  loue  with  a  pint  of  Sherry^  and  other 
pretty  paffages  there  are,  o'the  friendfhip,  that  will  delight 
you.  Sir,  and  pleafe  you  of  iudgement. 

CoK.  I'll  be  fworne  they  fhall ;  I  am  in  loue  with  the  10 
A^ors  already,  and  I'll  be  allyed  to  them  prefently.  (They 
refpe6l  gentlemen,  thefe  fellowes)  Hero  fhall  be  my  fayr- 
ing :  But,  which  of  my  fayrings  ?  (Le'me  fee)  i'faith,  my 
fiddle !  and  Leander  my  fiddle- Jlicke :  Then  Damon,  my  drum ; 
and  Pythias,  my  Pipe  and  the  ghofl  of  Dionyfius,  my  hobby-  15 
horfe.     All  fitted. 


[76] 


Act.  V.      Scene.  IV. 

To  them  Win-wife.     Grace.     Knockhvm. 

Whitt.     Edgvvorth.     Win.     Miftris 

OvERDOO.     And  to  them  VVaspe. 

Looke  yonder's  your  Cokes  gotten  in  among  his  play- 
fellowes;  I  thought  we  could  not  miffe  him,  at  fuch 
a  Spe6tacle. 

Gra.     Let   him    alone,  he   is    fo   bufie,   he  will    neuer  20 
fpie  vs. 

Lea.      Nay,  good  Sir.  [Cokes  zj /^aW//«^  M^  Puppets. 

CoK.  I  warrant  thee,  I  will  not  hurt  her,  fellow;  what 
dofl  think  me  vnciuill  ?  I  pray  thee  be  not  iealous:  I  am 
toward  a  wife.  25 

24    dofl  think]  dost  thou  think  G 


ii6  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

lOH.  Well  good  Mafler  Lanterne,  make  ready  to  begin, 
that  I  may  fetch  my  wife,  and  lookd  you  be  perfe6t,  you 
vndoe  me  elfe,  i'my  reputation. 

Lan.     I  warrant  you  Sir,  doe  not  you  breed  too  great  an 
5   expe6tation  of  it,  among  your  friends:    that's  the  onely 
hurter  of  thefe  things. 

loH.     No,  no,  no. 

CoK.     I'll  flay  here,  and  fee;  pray  thee  let  me  fee. 

WiN-vv.      How  diligent  and  troublefome  he  is! 
lo       Gra.     The  place  becomes  him,  me  thinkes. 

Ivs.  My  ward,  MiflrefTe  Grace  in  the  company  of  a 
flranger  ?  I  doubt  I  fhall  be  compell'd  to  difcouer  my 
felf e,  before  my  time ! 

FiL.     Two    pence    a    piece    Gentlemen,    an    excellent 

l5Motion.  [  The  doore-keepers  fpeake. 

Kno.     Shall  we  haue  fine  fire-works,  and  good  vapours  ! 
Sha.     Yes  Captaine,  and  water-works,  too. 
Whi.     I  pree  dee,  take  a  care  o'dy  fhmall  Lady,  there, 
Edgworth'y  I  will  looke  to  difh  tall  Lady  my  felfe. 
20       Lan.     Welcome  Gentlemen,  welcome  Gentlemen. 

Whi.     Predee,    Mafhter  o'de  Monjhterjh^   helpe  a  very 
ficke  Lady,  here,  to  a  chayre,  to  fhit  in. 
Lan.     Prefently,  Sir. 

Whi.     Good  fait  now,  Vrfld's  Ale,  and  Aqua-vitae  ifh  to 
25    blame   for't;    \^They  bring  Mijlris  Oyx^id^oo  a  chayre.'\    fhit   downe 
Ihweet  heart,  fhit  downe,  and  fhleep  a  little. 
Edg.     Madame,  you  are  very  welcom  hither. 
Kno.     Yes,  and  you  fhall  fee  very  good  vapours. 
Ivs.     Here  is  my  care  come!     I  like  to  fee  him  in  fo 
30  good  company;    and  yet  I  wonder  that  perfons  of  fuch 
fafhion,  fhould  refort  hither!  \By  Edgeworth. 

[77]        Edg.     This  is  a  very  priuate  houfe,  Madaine. 

[  The  Cut-purfe  courts  Mijlreffe  Littlewit. 
Lan.     Will  it  pleafe  your  Ladifhip  fit,  Madame  ? 
Win.     Yes  good-man.     They  doe  fo  all  to  be  Madame 
35   mee,  I  thinke  they  thinke  me  a  very  Lady! 

32    This]  There  77/6,  W,  G  34    all-to-be-madam  W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  117 

Edg.     What  elfe  Madame  ? 

Win.     Mud  I  put  off  my  mafque  to  him  ? 

Edg.     O,  by  no  meanes. 

Win.     How  fhould  my  husband  know  mee,  then  ? 

Kno.      Husband?    an  idle  vapour;  he  mufl   not  know   S 
you,  nor  you  him ;  there's  the  true  vapour. 

Ivs.     Yea,  I  will  obferue  more  of  this:  is  this  a  Z«^, 
friend  ? 

Whi.      I,  and  dat  is  anoder  Lady^  fhweet  heart;  if  dou 
hafht  a  minde  to  'hem  giue  me  twelue  pence  from  tee,  and   10 
dou  fhalt  haue  eder-oder  on  'hem ! 

Ivs.      I  ?     This  will  prooue  my  chief  eft  enormity:  I  will 
follow  this. 

Edg,     Is  not  this  a  finer  life,  Lady^  then  to  be  clogg'd 
with  a  husband  ?  15 

Win.     Yes,   a  great  deale.     When  will  they  beginne, 
trow  ?  in  the  name  o'the  Motion  ? 

Edg.     By  and  by  Madame^  they  ftay  but  for  company. 

Kno.     Doe  you  heare,  Fuppet-yi2SiQx^  thefe  are  tedious 
vapours;  when  begin  you?  20 

Lan.     We  ftay  but  for  Mafter  Littlewit^  the  Author^  who 
is  gone  for  his  wife ;  and  we  begin  prefently. 

Win.     That's  I,  that's  I. 

Edg.     That  was  you,  Lady\  but  now  you  are  no  fuch 
poore  thing.  25 

Kno.     Hang  the  Authors  wife,  a  running  vapour!  here 
be  Ladies^  will  ftay  for  nere  a  Delia  o'hem  all. 

Whi.     But  heare  mee  now,  heere  ifti  one  o'de  Ladijh^  a 
flileep,  ftay  till  ftiee  but  vake  man. 

Was.     How  now  friends  ?    what's  heere  to  doe  ?  30 

FiL.     Two  pence  a  piece.   Sir,  the  beft  Motion^  in  the 

JFayre.  [  The  doore-keepers  againe. 

Was.     I  beleeue  you  lye;    if   you   doe,    I'll    haue   my 

money  againe,  and  beat  you. 

Win.     7V//W/5  is  come!  35 

Was.     Did  you  fee  a  Mafter  of  mine,  come  in  here,  a 

tall  yong  Squire  of  Harrow  o'the  Hill\  Mafter  Bartholmew 

Cokes  ? 


ii8  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

FiL.      I  thinke  there  be  fuch  a  one,  within. 

Was.  Looke  hee  be,  you  were  befl:  but  it  is  very 
likely:  I  wonder  I  found  him  not  at  all  the  reft.  I  ha' 
beene  at  the  Eagle^  and  the  blacke  Wolfe^  and  the  Bull  with 
5  the  fiue  legges,  and  two  pizzles;  (hee  was  a  Calfe  at 
Vxbridge  Fayre^  two  yeeres  agone)  And  at  the  dogges  that 
daunce  the  Morrice^  and  the  Hare  o'the  Taber\  and  mift 
him  at  all  thefe!  Sure  this  muft  needs  be  fome  fine  fight, 
that  holds  him  fo,  if  it  haue  him. 
[78]       CoK.     Come,  come,  are  you  ready  now  ? 

Lan.      Prefently,  Sir. 

Was.      Hoyday,  hee's  at  worke  in  his  Dublet,  and  hofe; 
doe  you  heare,  Sir  ?  are  you  imploy'd  ?  that  you  are  bare 
headed,  and  fo  bufie  ? 
15       CoK.     Hold    your  peace,   Num;pes\    you  ha'beene  i'the 
Stocks,  I  heare. 

Was.     Do's  he  know  that  ?    nay,   then  the  date  of  my 
Authority  is  out;  I  muft  thinke  no   longer  to  raigne,  my 
gouernment  is  at  an  end.      He  that  will  corre6l  another, 
20  muft  want  fault  in  himfelfe. 

WiN-w.     Sententious  Numps  !     I  neuer  heard  fo  much 
from  him,  before. 

Lan.     Sure,  M aft er  Z////^ze//V  will  not  come;  pleafe  you 
take  your  place.  Sir,  wee'll  beginne. 
25        CoK.     I  pray  thee  doe,  mine  eares  long  to  be  at  it ;  and 
my  eyes  too.      O  Numps^  i'the   Stocks,    Numps  ?    where's 
your  fword,  Numps  ? 

Was.     I  pray  you  intend  your  game.  Sir,  let  me  alone. 

CoK.     Well  then,  we  are  quit  for  all.     Come,  fit  downe, 

30  Numps \  rie  interpret  to  thee:  did  you  fee  Miftreffe  Gracel 

it's  no  matter,  neither,  now  I  thinke  on't,   tell  mee  anon. 

WiN-w.     A  great  deale  of  loue,  and  care,  he  expreffes. 

Gra.     Alas!   would   you  haue   him   to    expreffe    more 
then  hee  has  ?  that  were  tyranny. 
35        CoK.     Peace,  ho;  now,  now. 

Lan.      Gentles^  that  no  longer  your  expeflations  may  wander ^ 
Behold  our  chief  A^or,  amorous  Leander. 

36  Gentles']  Gentiles  i6g2,  17 16 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  119 

With  a  great  deale  of  cloth^  lap'd  about  him  like  a  Scarf e^ 

For  he  yet  ferues  his  father^  a  Dyer  at  Puddle  wharf e^ 

Which  place  wee' II  make  bold  with,  to  call  it  our  Abidus, 

As  the  Banke-fide  is  our  Seflos,  and  let  it  not  be  deny'd  vs. 

Now,  as  he  is  beating,  to  make  the  Dye  take  the  fuller,  5 

Who  chances  to  come  by,  but  fair e  Hero,  in  a  Sculler', 

And  feeing  Leanders  naked  legge,  and  goodly  calfe, 

Cafl  at  him,  from  the  boat,  a  Sheepes  eye,  and  a  halfe. 

Now  fhe  is  landed,  and  the  Sculler  come  backe ; 

By  and  by,  you  fhall  fee  what  Leander  doth  lacke.  10 

Pvp.  L.      Cole,  Cole,  old  Cole. 

Lan.      That  is  the  Scullers  name  without  controle. 

Pvp.  L.      Cole,  Cole,  I  fay.  Cole. 

Lan.     We  doe  heare  you. 

Pvp.  L.      Old  Cole.  15 

Lan.     Old  cole  ?  Is  the  Dyer  turn'd  Collier  ?  how  do  you  fell  ? 

Pvp.  L.     a  pox  o'your  maners,  kifjfe  my  hole  here,  and 

fmell. 

Lan.     Kifjfe  your  hole,  and  fmell  1  there's  manners  indeed, 
'  Pvp.  L.      Why,  Cole,  I  fay,  Cole. 

Lan.     It's  the  Sculler  you  need  \  20 

Pvp.  L.     /,  and  be  hang'd.  [79] 

Lan.     Be  hang'd ;  looke  you  yonder. 
Old  Cole,  you  mufl  go  hang  with  Mafler  Leander. 

Pvp.  C.      Where  is  he  ? 

Pvp.  L.     Here,  Cole,  what  fayerefi  of  Fayers,  25 

was  that  fare,  that  thou  landefl  but  now  a  Trigsflayres  ? 

CoK.     What  was  that,  fellow  ?     Pray  thee   tell   me,   I 
fcarfe  vnderfland  'hem. 

Lan.      'LezLTidQV  do's  aske,  Sir,  what  fay refl  of  Fayers, 
Was  the  fare  thhe  landed,  but  now,  at  Trigsflayers  ?  30 

Pvp.  C.     It  is  louely  Hero. 

Pvp.  L.     Nero? 

Pvp.  C.     No,  Hero. 

Lan.     //  is  Hero. 

20   Is't  the  sculler  you  need  ?  6^        26    a]  at  /6g^,  1716,   W,  G 
30   thhe\  he  i6g2,  1716,   W,  G 


I20  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Of  the  Bankfide^  he  faith  ^  to  tell  you  truth  with  out  erring^ 
Is  come  ouer  into  Fifh-flreet  to  eat  fome  frefh  herring. 
Leandery<«y<fj  no  more,  but  as  fafl  as  he  can. 
Gets  on  all  his  befl  cloathes\  and  will  after  to  the  Swan. 
5        CoK.     Moll  admirable  good,  is't  not  ? 
Lan.      Stay,  Sculler. 
Pvp.  C.      What  fay  you  1 
Lan.      You  mufi  flay  for  Leander, 
and  carry  him  to  the  wench. 
lo        Pvp.  C.      You  Rogue,  I  am  no  Pandar. 

CoK.      He  fayes  he  is  no  Pandar.     'Tis  a  fine  language; 
I  vnderfland  it,  now. 

Lan.     Are  you  no  Pandar,  Goodman  Cole  ?  heer's  no  man 

fayes  you  are, 
You'll  grow  a  hot  Cole,  it  feemes,  pray  you  flay  for  your  fare. 
15        Pvp.  C.      Will  hee  come  away  ? 
Lan.      What  doe  you  fay  ? 
Pvp.  C.     Pde  ha' him  come  away. 

Lea.      Would  you    i^^'Leander   come   away}    why    'pray' 

Sir,  flay. 
You  are  angry,  Goodman  Cole;  I  beleeue  the  fair  e  Mayd 
20    Came  ouer  w'you  a'trufl :  tell  vs.  Sculler,  are  you  paid. 
Pvp.  C.      Yes  Goodman  Hogrubber,  0' Pickt-hatch. 
Lav  :     How,  Hogrubber  o' Pickt-hatch  ? 
Pvp.  C.     I  Hogrubber  0' Pickt-hatch.      Take  you  that. 

[The  Y*\x^T^e\  Jlrikes  him  ouer  the  pate 
Lan.      O,  my  head\ 
25        Pvp.  C.     Harme  watch,  harme  catch. 

CoK.     Harme  watch,  harme  catch,  he  fayes:  very  good 
i'faith,  the  Sculler  had  like  to  ha'knock'd  you,  firrah. 
Lan.     Yes,  but  that  his  fare  call'd  him  away. 
Pvp.  L.     Row  apace,  row  apace,  row,  row,  row,  row,  row. 
30        Lan.      You  are  knauifhly  loaden,   Sculler,  take  heed  where 
you  goe. 

Pvp.  C.     Knaue  i' your  face,  Goodman  Rogue. 
Pvp.  L.     Row,  row,  row,  row,  row,  row. 
CoK.     Hee  faid  knaue  i  your  face,  friend. 


BaRTHOLMEVV    FaYRE.  121 

Lan.     I   Sir,   I   heard  him.     But  there's  no  talking  to   [8( 
thefe  watermen,  they  will  ha'the  lafl  word 

CoK.     God's  my  life!    I  am  not  allied  to  the  Sculler, 
yet;  hee  fhall  be  Z>^2///z/;z  my  boy.     But  my   Fiddle-flicke 
do's  fiddle  in  and  out  too  much;  I  pray  thee  fpeake  to     5 
him  on't:  tell  him,  I  would  haue  him  tarry  in  my  fight, 
more. 

Lan.      I  Pray  you  be  content;  you'll  haue  enough  on 
him,  Sir. 
Now  geiitles^  I  take  it^  here  is  none  of  you  fo  Jlupid^  lo 

but  that  you  haue  heard  of  a  little  god  of  loue,  calVd  Cupid. 
Who  out  of  kindnes  to  Leander,  hearing  he  but  f aw  her, 

this prefent  day  and  houre,  doth  turne  himfelfe  to  a  Drawer. 
And  becaufe,  he  would  haue  their  firfl  meeting  to  be  merry ^ 

he  flrikes  Hero  in  loue  to  him,  with  a  pint  of  Sherry.  15 

Which  he  tells  her,  from  amorous  Leander  is  fent  her, 

who  after  him,  into  the  roome  of  Hero,  doth  venter. 

[Pvp.  Le2iXider  goes  into  Mijlris  Hero's  room 

Pvp.  lo:  A  pint  of  facke,  fcore  a  pint  of  facke,  i'the 
Conney. 

CoK.     Sack  ?  you  faid  but  ee'n  now  it  fhould  be  Sherry.    20 

Pvp.  Io:    Why  fo  it  is;  Jherry,fherry,  fherry. 

CoK.  Sherry,  fherry,  fherry.  By  my  troth  he  makes  me 
merry.  I  mud  haue  a  name  for  Cupid,  too.  Let  me  fee, 
thou  mightfl  helpe  me  now,  an'  thou  wouldefl,  Numps,  at 
a  dead  lift,  but  thou  art  dreaming  o'the  flocks,  flill!  Do  25 
not  thinke  on't,  I  haue  forgot  it:  'tis  but  a  nine  dayes 
wonder,  man ;  let  it  not  trouble  thee. 

Was.  I  would  the  flocks  were  about  your  necke.  Sir; 
condition  I  hung  by  the  heeles  in  them,  till  the  wonder 
were  off  from  you,  with  all  my  heart.  30 

CoK.  Well  faid  xeSoXwX.^  Nuvips:  but  hearke  you  friend, 
where  is  the  friendfhip,  all  this  while,  betweene  my  Drum, 
Damon-,  and  my  Pipe,  Pythias  ? 

Lan.     You  fhall  fee  by  and  by.  Sir  ? 

17   venter\  venture  i6g2,  17 16,   fV,  G 
34   Sir?]  Sir.     j6g2,  1716,  W,  G 


12  2  Barthol'mevv  Fayre. 

CoK.  You  thinke  my  Hobby-horfe  is  forgotten,  too; 
no,  I'll  fee  'hem  all  enadl  before  I  go;  I  fhall  not  know 
which  to  loue  bell,  elfe. 

Kno.     This  Gallant  has  interrupting  vapours,  trouble- 
5    fome  vapours,  Whitt^  puffe  with  him. 

Whit.  No,  I  pre  dee,  Captaine,  let  him  alone.  Hee  is 
a  Child  i'faith,  la'. 

Lan.     Now  gentles^  to  the  freinds^  who  in  number^  are  two, 
and  lodg'd  in  that  Ale-houfe^  in  which  /aire  Hero  do's  doe. 
lo        Damon  i^forfofne  kindneffe  done  him  the  lajl  weeke) 

is  come  fair e  Hero,  in  Fijh-Jlreete,  this  morning  to  feeke\ 
Pythias  do's  fmell  the  knauery  of  the  meeting^ 

and  now  you  fhall  fee  their  true  friendly  greeting. 
Pvp.  Pi.      You  whore-maflerly  Slaue^  you. 
15        CoK.     Whore-maflerly   flaue,    you  ?     very   friendly,    & 
familiar,  that. 

Pvp.  Da.      Whore-mafler  V thy  face, 
Thou  haft  lien  with  her  thy  f  elf  e,  Fll proue't  VtMs  place. 

CoK.     Damon  fayes  Pythias  has  lien  with  her,   himfelfe, 
20  hee'U  prooue't  in  this  place. 
[81]        Lan.      They  are   Whore-  maflers  both,   Sir,  that's  a  plaine 

cafe. 
Pvp.  Pi.      You  lye,  like  a  Rogue. 
Lan.     Doe  I  ly,  like  a  Rogue  ? 
Pvp.  Pi.     A  Pimpe,  and  a  Scabbe. 
25        Lan.     a  Pimpe,  and  a  Scabbet 

I  fay  betiveen  you,  you  haue  both  but  one  Drabbe» 
Pvp.  Da.      You  lye  againe. 
Lan.     Doe  I  lye  againe  ? 
Pvp.  Da.     Like  a  Rogue  againe. 
30        Lan.     Like  a  Rogue  againe  ? 

Pvp.  Pi.     And  you  are  a  Pimpe,  againe. 

CoK.     And  you  are  a  Pimpe  againe,  he  fayes. 

Pvp.  Da.     And  a  Scabbe,  againe. 

CoK.     And  a  Scabbe  againe,  he  fayes. 

8  gentles]  Gentiles  idgs,  17 16. 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  123 

Lan.     And  I  fay  againe,  you  are  both  whore-niajlers  agatne^ 
and  you  haue  both  but  one  Drabbe  againe.  \_They  fight. 

Pvp.  Da,  Pi.     Do'Jl  thou,  do'Jl  thou,  do'Ji  thou  ? 

AN.      What,  both  at  once  ? 

Pvp.  p.     Downe  with  him,  Damon  5 

Pvp.  D.     Pinke  his  guts,  Pythias: 

Lan.     What,  fo  malicious  ? 
will  ye  murder  me,  Majlers  both,  i'mine  owne  houfe  ? 

CoK.      Ho!    well  acfled  my  Drum,  well  a(5led  my  Pipe, 
well  adled  Hill.  10 

Was.     Well  a<5led,  with  all  my  heart. 

Lan.      Hid,  hold  your  hands 

CoK.     I,  both  your  hands,   for  my  fake!    for  you  ha' 
both  done  well. 

Pvp.  D.      Gramercy pure  Pythias.  15 

Pvp.  p.      Gramercy,  Deare  Damon. 

CoK.     Gramercy  to  you  both,  my  Pipe,  and  my  drum. 

Pvp.  P.D.      Cofne  now  wee' II  together  to  breakfajl  to  Hero. 

Lan.      '  Tis  well,  you  can  now  go  to  breakfajl  to  Hero, 
you  haue  giuen  mmy  breakfafl,  with  a  hone  and  honero.  20 

CoK.     How  is't  friend,  ha'they  hurt  thee  ? 

Lan.     O  no! 

Betweene  you  and  I  Sir,  we  doe  but  make  (how. 
Thus  Gentles  you  perceiue,  without  any  deniall, 

'tunxt  Damon  and  Pythias  here,  friendjiiips  true  tryall.  25 

Though  hourely  they  quarrell  thus,  and  roare  each  with  other, 

they  fight  you  no  more,  then  do's  brother  with  brother. 
But  friendly  together,  at  the  next  man  they  meet, 

they  let  fly  their  anger  as  here  you  might  fee' t. 

CoK.     Well,  we  haue  feen't,  and  thou  hafl  felt  it,  what-   30 
foeuer  thou  fayefl,  what's  next  ?   what's  next  ? 

Lea.      This  while  young  Leander,  with  f  aire  Hero  is 

drinking, 

and  Hero  growne  drunke,  to  afiy  mans  thinking  \ 
Yet  was  it  not  three  pi?its  of  Sherry  could  flaw  her. 

till  Cupid  diflinguifli' d  like  lonas  the  Drawer,  [82] 

8   mine\  my  ibgz,  1716,   IV,  G  20   inmy\  me  my  i6g2,  17 16,   W,  G 

24   Gentles]  Gentiles  i6g2,  iyi6 


124  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

I^rom  vnder  his  apron^  where  his  lechery  lurkes^ 
put  loue  in  her  Sacke.     Now  inarke  how  it  workes. 
Pvp.   H.   O  Leander  Leander,  my  deare  my  deare 

Leander, 
rie  for  euer  be  thy  goofe,  fo  thou' It  be  my  gander. 
5        CoK.     Excellently  well  faid,  Fiddle^   fhee'll  euer  be  his 
goofe,  fo  hee'll  be  her  gander:  was't  not  fo  ? 
Lan.     Yes,  Sir,  but  marke  his  anfwer,  now. 
Pvp.  L.     And fweetejl  of  geefe,  before  I goe  to  bed^ 
I'll  fwimme  o're  the  Thames,  my  goofe^  thee  to  tread. 
lo       CoK.     Braue!     he  will   fwimme  o're   the    Thames^    and 
tread  his  goofe,  too  night,  he  fayes. 

Lan.     I,  peace,  Sir,  the'U  be  angry,   if  they  heare  you 
eauef-dropping,  now  they  are  fetting  their  match. 

Pvp.  L.     But  left  the  Thames  Jhould  be  dark ^  my  goofe ^  my 

deare  friend^ 
15  let  thy  window  be  prouided  of  a  candles  end. 

Pvp.  H.     Feare  not  my  gander^  I  protefl^  I  Jhould  handle 

my  matters  very  ill,  if  I  had  not  a  whole  candle. 
Pvp.  L.      Well  then,  looke  tot,  and  kiffe  me  to  boote. 
Lan.     Now,  heere  come  the  friends  againe,  Pythias,  cend 

Damon, 
20  (ind  vnder  their  clokes,  they  haue  of  Bacon,  a  gammon. 

[Damon  and  Pythias  enter. 
Pvp.  F.     Drawer,  fill  fome  wine  heere. 
Lan.     How,  fome  wine  there  ? 

there's  company  already.  Sir,  pray  forbeare! 
Pvp.  D.     'Tis  Hero. 
25        Lan.      Yes,  but  Jhee  will  not  be  taken, 

after  facke,  and  frejh  herring,  with  your  Dunmow-^^^^w. 
Pvp.  F     You  lye,  ifs  Weflfabian. 
Lan.      Weflphalian  you  fhould  fay. 

Pvp.  D.     If  you  hold  not  your  peace,  you  are  a  Coxcombe,  I 
30    would  fay.  [Leander  and  Hero  are  kijjing. 

Pvp.      Whafs  here  ?  whafs  here  ?  kiffe,  kiffe,  vpon  kiffe. 
Lan.     /,   Wherefore  fhould  they  not  ?  what  harme  is  in  this  ? 

'tis  Miflreffe  Hero. 
Pvp.  D.     Miflreffe  Hero's  a  whore. 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  125 

Lan.     Is  JJiee  a  whore  ?  keepe  you  quiet^  or  Sir  Knaue  out 

of  dore. 

Pvp,  Z>.     Knaue  out  of  doore  ? 

Pvp.  H.      Yes,  Knaue ^  out  of  doore. 

Pvp.  D.      Whore  out  of  doore. 

\Heere  the  Puppets  quarrell  and  fall  together  by  the  eares. 

Pvp.  H.     I  fay,  Knaue,  out  of  doore.  5 

Pvp.  Z?.     /  say,  whore,  out  of  doore. 

Pvp.  p.      Yea,  fo  fay  I  too. 

Pvp.  If.  Kiffe  the  whore  d^the  arfe. 

Lan.     Now  you  hafo77iething  to  doe: 

you  mufl  kiffe  her  0'  the  arfeflieefayes.  10 

Vy^.  D.  P.     So  we  will,  fo  we  will. 

"Pyv.  H.      O  my  hanches,  O  my  hanches,  hold,  hold. 

Lan.      Stand' fl  thou  flill  ? 
Leander,  where  art  thou?  fland'fl  thou  flill  like  a  fot, 

a7td  not  offer  fl  to  breake  both  their  heads  with  a  pot  ?  [83] 

See  who's  at  thine  elbo^v,  there  !  Puppet  lonas  and  Cupid. 

Pvp.  L      Vpon  'hem  Leander,  be  not  fo  flupid.    \^T hey  fight. 

Pvp.  L.      You  Goat-bearded flaue  ! 

Pvp.  D.      You  whore-mafler  Knaue. 

Pvp.  L.      Thou  art  a  whore-mafler.  20 

Pvp.  /.      Whore-maflers  all. 

Lan.      See,  Cupid  with  a  word  has  tane  vp  the  brawle. 

Kno.     Thefe  be  fine  vapours  ! 

CoK.     By  this  good  day  they  fight  brauely  !  doe  they 
not,  Numps  ?  25 

Was.     Yes,  they  lack'd  but  you  to  be  their  fecond,  all 
this  while. 

Lan.      This  tragicall  encounter,  falling  out  thus  to  bufie  vs, 
It  raifes  vp  the  ghofl  of  their  friend  Dionyfius : 
Not  like  a  Monarch,  but  the  Mafler  of  a  Schoole,  ^o 

in  a  Scriueners  furrd  gowne,  which  fhewes  he  is  no  foole. 
for  therein  he  hath  wit  enough  to  keepe  himfelfe  warme. 
O  Damon  he  cries,  and  Pythias ;  what  harme, 
Hath  poo  re  Dionyfius  done  you  ift  his  graue. 

That  after  his  death,  you  fhould  fall  out  thus,  and  raue,  ^e 

And  call  amorous  Leander  ivhore-tJiafler  Kjiaue  ? 

Pvp,  D.     I  cannot,  I  will  ?wt,  I promife  you  endure  it. 


126  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Act.  v.       Scene.  V. 
To  them  Bvsy. 

"D  VS.  Downe  with  Dagon^  downe  with  Dagon\  'tis  I,  will 
no  longer  endure  your  prophanations. 
Lan.     What  meane  you,  Sir  ? 

Bvs,  I  will  remoue  Dagon  there,  I  fay,  that  Idoll,  that 
5  heathenifh  Idoll,  that  remaines  (as  I  may  fay)  a  beame,  a 
very  beame,  not  a  beame  of  the  Sunne,  nor  a  beame  of  the 
Moone,  nor  a  beame  of  a  ballance,  neither  a  houfe-beame, 
nor  a  Weauers  beame,  but  a  beame  in  the  eye,  in  the 
eye  of  the  brethren ;  a  very  great  beame,  an  exceeding 
lo  great  beame;  fuch  as  are  your  Stage-players^  Rimers^  and 
Mor rife- dancers^  who  haue  walked  hand  in  hand,  in  con- 
tempt of  the  Brethren,  and  the  Caufe\  and  beene  borne  out 
by  inflruments,  of  no  meane  countenance. 

Lan,     Sir,   I  prefent  nothing,  but  what  is  licens'd  by 
15    authority. 

Bas.     Thou  art  all  licenfe,   euen  licentioufneffe  it  felfe, 
Shwiei  ! 

Lan.     I  haue  the  Mafler  of  the  ReuelVs  haud  for't,  Sir. 
[84]        Bvs.      The  Mafler  of  Rebells  hand,   thou  hall;  Satan  s\ 
20   hold  thy  peace,  thy  fcurrility  (hut  vp  thy  mouth,  thy  pro- 
feffion  is  damnable,  and  in  pleading  for  it,  thou  dofl  plead 
for  Baal.     I  haue  long  opened  my  mouth  wide,  and  gaped, 
I  haue  gaped  as  the  oyfler  for  the  tide  after  thy  deflruc- 
tion:   but  cannot  compaffe  it  by  fute,  or  difpute;  fo  thar  I 
25    looke  for  a  bickering,  ere  long,  and  then  a  battell. 
Kno.      Good  B anbury-vapours. 

CoK.     Friend,    you'ld  haue  an   ill   match   on't,    if  you 
bicker  with  him  here,  though  he  be  no  man  o'the  fifl,  hee 

I     'tis  I,  I  will  G 
20     fcurrility  followed  by  a  comma    i6g2,  17 16,  W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  127 

has  friends  that  will  goe  to  cuffes  for  him,  Numps^  will  not 
you  take  our  fide  ? 

Edg.  Sir,  it  fhall  not  need,  in  my  minde,  he  offers  him 
a  fairer  courfe,  to  end  it  by  difputation  !  hafl  thou  nothing 
to  fay  for  thy  felfe,  in  defence  of  thy  quality  ?  5 

Lan.  Faith,  Sir,  I  am  not  well  fludied  in  thefe  con- 
trouerfies,  betweene  the  hypocrites  and  vs.  But  here's  one 
of  my  Motion^  Puppet  Donifius  fhall  vndertake  him,  and  Tie 
venture  the  caufe  on't. 

CoK.     Who  ?    my  Hobby-horfe  ?  will  he  difpute  with   10 
him  ? 

Lan.     Yes,  Sir,  and  make  a  Hobby-Affe  of  him,  I  hope. 

CoK.  That's  excellent  !  indeed  he  lookes  like  the  befl 
fcholler  of  'hem  all.  Come,  Sir,  you  mufl  be  as  good  as 
your  word,  now.  15 

Bvs.  I  will  not  feare  to  make  my  fpirit,  and  gifts 
knowne  !  affifl  me  zeale,  fill  me,  fill  me,  that  is,  make  me 
full. 

WiN-w.     What  a  defperate,    prophane  wretch  is  this  ! 
is  there  any  Ignorance,  or  impudence  like  his?  to  call  his   20 
zeale  to  fill  him  againfl  a  Puppet  ? 

QvA.  I  know  no  fitter  match,  then  a  Puppet  to  commit 
with  an  Hypocrite  ? 

Bvs.     Firfl,  I  fay  vnto  thee,  Idoll,   thou  hafl  no  Calling. 

Pvp.  D.      You  lie,  I  am  calVd  Dionifius.  25 

Lan.  The  Motion  fayes  you  lie,  he  is  call'd  Dionifius 
ithe  matter,  and  to  that  calling  he  anfwers. 

Bvs.  I  meane  no  vocation,  Idoll,  no  prefent  lawfull 
Calling. 

Pvp.  D.     Is  yours  a  lawfull  Calling  ">.  30 

Lan.     The  Motion  asketh,  if  yours  be  a  lawfull  Calling} 

Bvs.     Yes,  mine  is  of  the  Spirit. 

Pvp.  D.    Then  Idoll  is  a  lawfull  Calling. 

Lan.  He  faies,  then  Idoll  is  a  lawfull  Calling  !  for  you 
call'd  him  Idoll,  and  your  Calling  is  of  the  fpirit.  35 

CoK.     Well  difputed,  Hobby-horfe  ! 

I   goe  om.   W,  G 


128  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Bvs.     Take  not  part   with  the  wicked  young   Gallant. 
He  neygheth  and  hinneyeth,  all  is  but  hinnying  Sophiflry. 
I  call  him  Idoll  againe.     Yet,   I  fay,  his  Callings  his  Pro- 
feffion  is  prophane,  it  is  prophane,  Idoll. 
5        Pvp.  D.     //  is  not  prophane  ! 

Lan.      It  is  not  prophane,  he  fayes. 
Bvs.     It  is  prophane. 
Pvp.     //  is  not  prophane. 
[85]       Bvs.     It  is  prophane. 
10       Pvp.     It  is  not  prophane. 

Lan     Well  faid,  confute   him  with  not.,  flill.     You  can- 
not beare  him  downe  with  your  bafe  noyfe.  Sir. 

Bvs.     Nor  he  me,  with  his  treble  creeking,  though  he 
creeke  like  the  chariot  wheeles  of  Satan  ;  I  am  zealous  for 
15   the  Caufe — 

Lan.     As  a  dog  for  a  bone. 

Bvs.     And  I  fay,  it  is  prophane,  as  being  the  Page  of 
Pride.,  and  the  waiting  woman  of  vanity. 

Pvp.  D.      Yea"^.   what  fay  you  to  your  Tire-women^  thenl 
20       Lan,     Good. 

Pvp.      Or   feather-makers    i'the    Fryers,    that  are    o^your 

fa^ion  of  faith  ?     Are  not  they  with  their  perrukes,  and  their 

puffes^  their  fannes.,  and  their  huff es.,  as  much  Pages  ^/ Pride, 

and  waiters  vpon  vanity?  what  fay  you  1  what  fay  you  "i  what 

25  fay  you  ? 

Bvs.      I  will  not  anfwer  for  them. 

Pvp.     Becaufe you  cannot,  becaufe you  cannot.     Is  a  Bugle- 
maker  a  lawfull  Calling  ?  or  the  Conf e6t-makers  ?  fuch  you 
haue  there  :  or  your  French   Fafhioner  ?  you' Id  haue  all  the 
30  finne  within  your  felues,  would  you  not}  would  you  not} 
Bvs.     No,  Dagon. 

Pvs.      What  then.,  Dagonet  ?  is  a  Puppet  worfe  then  thefe  ? 
Bvs.     Yes,  and  my  maine  argument  againft  you,  is,  that 
you  are  an  abomination  :  for  the  Male,  among  you,  putteth 
35   on  the  apparell  of  the  Female.,  and  the  Female  of  the  Male. 
Pvp.      You  lye,  you  lye,  you  lye  abominably. 

I     Comma  supplied  after  wicked  iyi6,   W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  129 

CoK.     Good,   by  my  troth,  he  has  giuen  him  the  lye 
thrice. 

Pvp.     It  is  your  old  Jlale  argument  againjl  the  Players^  but 
it  will  not  hold  againjl  the  Puppets  ;  for  we  haue  neyther  Male 
nor  Female  amongji  vs.     And  that  thou   mayjl  fee^   if  thou     5 
wilt^  like  a  malicious  purblinde  zeale  as  thou  art ! 

[  The  Puppet  takes  vp  his  garment. 

Edg.     By  my  faith,  there  he  has  anfwer'd  you,  friend  ; 
by  playne  demonftration. 

Pvp.      Nay,  I'le  proue,  againfl  ere  a  Rabbin  of 'hem  all, 
that  my  flanding  is  as  law  full  as  his  ;  that  I  f peak  by  infpira-    10 
tion,  as  well  as  he  ;  that  I  haue  as  little  to  doe  with  learning  as 
he  ;  and  doe  fcorne  her  helps  as  much  as  he. 

Bvs,     I  am  confuted,  the  Caufe  hath  failed  me. 

Pvs.      Then  be  conuerted,  be  conuerted. 

Lan.     Be  conuerted,  I  pray  you,  and  let  the  Play  goe   15 


on 


Bvs.     Let  it  goe  on.     For  I  am  changed,  and  will  be- 
come a  beholder  with  you  ! 

CoK.     That's  braue  i'faith,  thou  hafl  carryed  it  away, 
Hobby-horfe,  on  with  the  Play!  20 

I  vs.       [The  lujlice  di/couers  him/elfe.^      Stay,  now  do  I  forbid, 
I  Adam  Ouerdoo  !   fit  flill,  I  charge  you. 

CoK.     What,  my  Brother  i'law  ! 

Gra.     My  wife  Guardian ! 

Edg.     luflice  Ouerdoo  \  25 

Ivs.     It  is  time,  to  take  Enormity  by  the  fore  head,  and   [86] 
brand  it  ;  for,  I  haue  difcouer'd  enough. 

8   by  playne]  a  plain  G  22    I  am  Adam  i6g2,  1716,  W,  G 


130  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 


Act.  v.      Scene.  VI. 

To  them,  Qvarlovs.    {like  the  Mad-man)  P.v re- 
craft,   (a  while  after)  Iohn.     to  them  Trov- 

BLE-ALL.       VrSLA.       NiGHTIGALE. 

QVAR.     Nay,  come  Miflreffe  Bride.     You  mufl  doe  as 
I  doe,  now.     You  mufl  be  mad  with  mee,  in  truth. 
I  haue  heere  lujlice  Ouerdoo  for  it. 
Ivs.     Peace   good    Trouble-all ;    come   hither,    and   you 
5  fliall  trouble  none.      I  will  take  the  charge  of  you,  and 
your  friend  too,   [Zi?  the  Cutpurfe,  and  Mijlrejfe  Litwit.]  yOU  alfo, 
young  man  fhall  be  my  care,  (land  there. 
Edg.     Now,  mercy  vpon  mee. 

Kno.     Would  we  were  away,  Whit,  thefe  are  dangerous 
10  vapours,  befl  fall  off  with  our  birds,  for  feare  o'the  Cage. 

[  The  reji  are  Jlealing  away. 
Ivs.     Stay,  is  not  my  name  your  terror  ? 
Whi.     Yelh  faith  man,  and  it  ifli  fot  tat,  we  would  be 
gone  man. 

loH.  O  Gentlemen!  did  you  not  fee  a  wife  of  mine  ?  I 
15  ha'loft  my  little  wife,  as  I  fhall  be  trufled:  my  little  pretty 
Win,  I  left  her  at  the  great  woman's  houfe  in  trufl  yon- 
der, the  Pig-womans,  with  Captaine  Jordan,  and  Captaine 
Whit,  very  good  men,  and  I  cannot  heare  of  her.  Poore 
foole,  I  feare  fliee's  (lepp'd  afide.  Mother,  did  you  not  fee 
20    Win  ? 

Ivs.     If  this  graue  Matron  be  your  mother,  Sir,  fland 

by  her,  Et  digito  compefce  labellum,  I  may  perhaps  fpring  a 

wife  for  you,    anone.     Brother  Bartholmew,    I   am   fadly 

forry,  to  fee  you  fo  lightly  giuen,  and  fuch  a  Difciple  of 

25  enormity  :    with  your  graue   Gouernour  Humphrey  :    but 

6  friend  too,]  Friend  too  ;  i6g2,  1716,  W,  G 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  131 

Hand  you  both  there,  in  the  middle  place  ;  I  will  repre- 
hend you  in  your  courfe.  Miflreffe  Grace,  let  me  refcue 
you  out  of  the  hands  of  the  flranger. 

WiN-w.     Pardon  me,  Sir,  I  am  a  kinfman  of  hers. 

Ivs.     Are  you  fo  ?  of  what  name,  Sir  ?  5 

WiN-w.      Winwife,  Sir  : 

Ivs.     Mafler  Winwife  ?     I  hope  you  haue  won  no  wife 
of  her.  Sir.     If  you  haue,  I  will  examine  the  poflibility 
of  it,  at  fit  leafure.     Now,  to  my  enormities  :  looke  vpon 
mee,  O  London !  and  fee  mee,  O  Smithfield  ;  The  example  of  10 
lujlice,  and  Mirror  of  Magiflrates :  the  true  top  of  formal- 
ity, and  fcourge  of  enormity.     Harken  vnto  my  labours,    [87] 
and   but    obferue    my   difcoueries  ;    and   compare   Hercules 
with  me,  if  thou  dar'fl,   of  old  ;  or  Columbus  ;  Magellan  ; 
or  our  countrey  man  Drake  of  later  times  :    fland  forth    15 
you   weedes    of  enormity,    and   fpread.     [7>  Bufy,]  First, 
Rabbi    Bufy,    thou    fuperlunaticall    hypocrite,    \^To  Lantern,] 
next,  thou  other  extremity,    thou  prophane  profeffor  of 
Puppetry,  little  better  then  Poetry  :  [To  the  horfe  courfer,  and 
Cutpurfe.'\  then   thou   ftrong   Debaucher,    and   Seducer   of   20 
youth  ;  witneffe  this  eafie  and  honefl  young  man  :  [Then 
Cap.  Whit,]    now   thou   Efquire   of    Dames,    Madams,    and 
twelue-penny  Ladies-,  [and Mi/ireJ^e  Littlewit.]  now  my  greene 
Madame  her  felfe,  of  the  price.     Let  mee  vnmafque  your 
Ladifhip.  25 

loH.     O  my  wife,  my  wife,  my  wife ! 

Ivs.      Is  fhe  your  wife  ?     Redde  te  Harpocratem\ 

[Enter  Trouble-all. 

Tro.     By  your  leaue,  fland  by  my  Maflers,  be  vncouer'd. 

Vrs.     O  Hay  him,  flay  him,  helpe  to  cry.  Nightingale; 
my  pan,  my  panne.  ^o 

Ivs.     What's  the  matter  ? 

Nig.     Hee  has  flolne  gammar  Vrfla's  panne. 

Tro.     Yes,  and  I  feare  no  man  but  luflice  Ouerdoo. 

Ivs.      Vrfla  ?     where  is  fhe  ?     O  the  Sow  of  enormity, 
this!    [To  Vrfla  and  Nightingale.]   welcome,   fland  you  there,    35 
you  Songfler,  there. 


13*         Bartholmevv  Fayre. 

Vrs.  An*  pleafe  your  worftiip,  I  am  in  no  fault:  A 
Gentleman  llripp'd  him  in  my  Booth,  and  borrow'd  his 
gown,  and  his  hat;  and  hee  ranne  away  with  my  goods, 
here,  for  it. 
5  Ivs.  [To  Quarlous.]  Then  this  is  the  true  mad-man,  and 
you  are  the  enormity! 

QvA.     You  are  i'the  right,   I   am  mad,   but  from   the 
gowne  outward.  / 

Ivs.     Stand  you  there, 
lo       QvA.     Where  you  pleafe.  Sir. 

Over     O   lend  me  a  bafon,    I   am   ficke,   I    am  ficke; 
Where's  M^  Ouerdoo  ?  Bridget^  call  hither  my  Adam. 

\MiJireffe  Ouerdoo  is  ficke  :  and  her  husband  is  filenc^d. 

Ivs.     How  ? 

Whi.      Dy  very  owne  wife,  i'fait,  worfhipfuU  Adam. 
15       Over.     Will  not  my  Adam  come  at  mee  ?  fhall  I  fee  him 
no  more  then  ? 

QvA.     Sir,  why  doe  you  not  goe  on  with  the  enormity  ? 

are  you  opprefl  with  it?     He  helpe  you:  harke  you  Sir, 

i'your  eare,  your  Innocent  young  man^  you  haue  tane  fuch 

20  care  of,  all  this  day,  is  a  Cutpurfe\  that  hath  got  all  your 

brother  Cokes  his  things,  and  help'd  you  to  your  beating, 

and  the  flocks;  if  you  haue  a  minde  to  hang  him  now,  and 

(hew  him  your  Magijlrates  wit,   you  may:    but   I   fliould 

think  it  were  better,   recouering  the  goods,  and  to  faue 

25   your  eflimation  in  him.      I  thank  you  S'.   for  the  gift  of 

your  Ward,   M".    Grace:   look   you,   here  is  your  hand  & 

feale,  by  the  way.     M"".  Win-wife  giue  you  ioy,   you  are 

Palemon,  you  are  poffefl  o'the  Gentlewoman,  but  Ihe  mufl 

pay  me  value,  here's  warrant  for  it.     And  honeft  mad-man, 

30  there's  thy  gowne,  and  cap  againe;  I  thanke  thee  for  my 

wife.     [To  the  widdow.]    Nay,    I   can  be  mad,    fweet  heart, 

[88]  when  I  pleafe,  flill ;  neuer  f eare  me :  And  caref ull  Numps, 

where's  he  ?     I  thanke  him  for  my  licence. 

Was.       How  !  [Wafpe  miffeth  the  Licence. 

35        0^^-      'Tis  true,  Numps. 
Was.     I'll  be  hang'd  then. 


Bartholmevv  Fayre.  133 

QvA.  Loke  i'your  boxe,  Numps,  nay,  Sir,  Hand  not  you 
fixt  here,  like  a  flake  in  Finsbury  to  be  Ihot  at,  or  the 
whipping  poll  i'the  Fayre,  but  get  your  wife  out  o'the  ayre, 
it  wil  make  her  worfe  elfe;  and  remember  you  are  but 
Adam,  Flefh,  and  blood!  you  haue  your  fraility,  forget  5 
your  other  name  of  Ouerdoo,  and  inuite  vs  all  to  fupper. 
There  you  and  1  will  compare  our  difcoueries\  and  drowne 
the  memory  of  all  enormity  in  your  bigg'fl  bowle  at  home. 

CoK.      How   now,  Numps,   ha'you    loft  it  ?     I  warrant, 
'twas  when  thou  wert  i'the  flocks:  why  dofl  not  fpeake  ?       10 

Was.     I  will  neuer  fpeak  while  I  Hue,  againe,  for  ought 
I  know. 

I  vs.     Nay,  Humphrey,  if  I  be  patient,  you  mull  be  fo  too ; 
this  pleafant  conceited  Gentleman  hath  wrought  vpon  my 
iudgement,  and  preuail'd:  I  pray  you  take  care  of  your    ^5 
ficke  friend,  MiftrelTe  Alice,  and  my  good  friends  all — 

QvA.     And  no  enormities. 

Ivs.     I  inuite  you  home,  with  mee  to  my  houfe,  to  fup- 
per: I  will  haue  none  feare  to  go  along,  for  my  intents 
are  Ad  corre^ionem,  non  ad  dejlruiiionem'.  Ad  cedificandum,    20 
non  ad  diruendum :  fo  lead  on. 

CoK.     Yes,   and  bring  the  A^ors  along,   wee'll  ha'the 
rell  o'the  Play  at  home. 

The  end. 


134  Bartholmevv  Fayre. 


Y 


The   Epilogve. 

Our  Maiefly  hath  feene  the  Play,  and  you 

can  beji  allow  it  from  your  eare^  and  view. 
You  know  the  f cope  of  Writers,  and  what  flore, 

of  leaue  is  giuen  them,  if  they  take  not  more, 
And  turne  it  into  licence :  you  can  tell 

if  we  haue  vs'd  that  leaue  you  gaue  vs,  well: 
Or  whether  wee  to  rage,  or  licence  breake, 

or  be  prophane,  or  make  prophane  menfpeake  ? 
This  is  your  power  to  iudge  {great  Sir)  and  not 

the  enuy  of  a  few.     Which  if  wee  haue  got, 
Wee  value  leffe  what  their  diflike  can  bring, 

if  it  fo  happy  be,  f  haue  pleas' d  the  King. 


Notes  135 


NOTES 

References  to  Bartholomew  Fair  read  page,  line,  of  the  text  pre- 
ceding; to  other  plays  of  Jonson,  act,  scene,  Gifford's  text.  In 
citing  the  works  of  Jonson  and  Shakespeare,  the  author's  name 
has  been  commonly  omitted.  Notes  from  Whalley  are  marked  W.; 
from  Gifford,  G.;  from  Cunningham,  Cun.;  other  abbreviations 
will  be  understood  by  referring  to  the  Bibliography. 

TITLE-PAGE.  Bartholmew.  With  one  exception  (11.  4), 
the  uniform  spelling  throughout  the  play,  indicating  the  pronuncia- 
tion. In  Shakespeare,  first  folio,  T.  of  Shrew,  Induct,  i.  105,  2 
Hen.  IV,  2.  4.  250,  it  is  similarly  spelled;  however,  in  Hen.  V,  5.  2. 
336,  Bartholomezv. 

Lady  Elizabeths  Servants.  Elizabeth  (1596-1662)  was  the 
eldest  daughter  of  James  I.  When  but  little  more  than  a  child,  she 
was  celebrated  for  her  beauty,  and  became  very  popular. 

There  existed  three  successive  companies  of  this  name,  the 
second  and  third  being  formed  by  the  uniting  of  a  rival  company 
with  the  first.  They  were  organized  by  Henslowe  at  the  following 
dates:  i)  August,  1611;  2)  March,  1613;  3)  April,  1614.  For  the 
names  of  the  actors,  see  Fleay's  Hist,  of  the  Stage,  186-188. 

'On  the  accession  of  James  all  the  men's  companies  were  taken 
under  the  patronage  of  the  Royal  Family.  .  .  .  The  two 
children's  companies  were  soon  finally  suppressed  and  replaced  by 
players  patronized  by  the  Duke  of  York  and  the  Lady  Elizabeth.' 
— Fleay,  Hist,  of  Stage,  165. 

Beniamin  lohnson.  Wheatley  says  that  the  poet  invariably  signed 
his. name  Jonson,  but  others  usually  wrote  it  Johnson.  In  the  1631-41 
folio,  the  title-pages  of  The  Staple  of  Nezvs  and  The  Devil  is  an 
Ass  have  it  without  h;  in  twelve  other  places  where  the  name 
occurs,  h  is  inserted.  In  the  1616  folio,  which  was  much  more 
carefully  printed,  it  is  spelled  Jonson,  so  also  in  the  1612  quarto  of 
The  Alchemist. 

The  quotation  from  Horace  is  11.  194-200  of  the  Epistle  desig- 
nated, with  the  following  differences :  11.  195-6  have  been  omitted  as 
irrelevant;  seu,  changed  to  nam;   asello,  misspelled  assello. 

I.  B.  *In  an  undated  and  hitherto  misunderstood  letter  to  the 
Earl  of  Newcastle,  Harl.  MS.  4955,  he  [Jonson]  says  (I  have  cor- 
rected  the   punctuation),    "It   is   the   lewd   printer's    [J.    Benson's] 


136  Bartholomew  Fair 

fault  that  I  can  send  your  lordship  no  more  of  my  book.  I  sent 
you  one  piece  before,  The  Fair  [Bartholomew  Fair] ;  and  now  I 
send  you  this  other  morsel,  The  fine  gentleman  that  walks  the  town, 
The  Fiend  [The  Devil  is  an  Ass] ;  but  before  he  will  perfect  the 
rest  I  fear  he  will  come  himself  to  be  a  part  under  the  title  of  The 
Absolute  Knave,  which  he  hath  played  with  me."  The  only  other 
play  which  Benson  printed  for  Jonson  was  The  Staple  of  News,  and 
this  letter  must  lie  between  his  printing  that  and  the  preceding  one, 
The  Devil's  an  Ass.' — Fleay,  Chron.  Eng.  Drama,  i.  354. 

Robert  Allot.  During  this  same  year  (1631)  he  also  published 
The  Devil  is  an  Ass  and  The  Staple  of  News;  the  following  year, 
the  'Second  Impression'  of  Shakespeare's  Works.  See  Hazlitt's 
Handbook  for  the  names  of  nearly  forty  books  published  by  him 
between  1626  and  1635.  Attempts  have  been  made  to  identify  him 
with  the  author  of  England's  Parnassus,  but  of  the  latter  person 
little  is  known,  and  the  general  opinion  is  against  this  identification. 

at  the  signe  of  the  Beare,  in  Pauls  Church-yard.  Before  the 
Great  Fire,  1666,  St.  Paul's  Church-yard  was  chiefly  occupied  by 
stationers,  who  were  known  by  their  signs  (cf.  note  on  signs,  22.  31). 

PROLOGUE.  Bartholomezv  Fair  was  performed  at  court  before 
King  James,  November  i,  1614,  the  day  following  its  first  production 
at  the  Hope. 

your  lands  Faction.  The  Puritans,  whom  James  had  found 
annoying  and  troublesome  enough  (as  is  suggested  in  11.  6,  7),  when 
he  opposed  them  in  matters  of  conscience. 

scandalized  at  toyes.  As  Babies.  Not  until  three  quarters  of  a 
century  later,  did  the  Bartholomew  babies  become  known  as  dolls 
(corrupted  from  Dorothy).  The  name  is  of  especial  interest,  if,  as 
Morley  states,  it  was  Bartholomew  Fair  that  gave  it:  'Bartholomew 
babies  were  illustrious ;  but  their  name,  as  the  license  of  the  Fair 
increased,  was  of  equivocal  suggestion.  Therefore,  when  some 
popular  toyman,  who  might  have  called  his  babies  pretty  Sues, 
or  Molls,  or  Polls,  cried  diligently  to  the  ladies  who  sought  fairings 
for  their  children,  "Buy  a  pretty  Doll"  (it  was  at  a  time,  too, 
when  the  toy  babies  were  coming  more  and  more  into  demand), 
the  conquest  of  a  clumsiness  was  recognized.' — Morley,  Mem.  334. 

iust  complaint.     Precise  charge  or  accusation. 

Fayring.  A  present  from  a  fair.  At  first  it  was  usually  a  relic 
or  image  of  a  saint  (thus  the  ancestor  of  the  gingerbread  figures). 

PERSONS  OF  THE  PLAY.  Following  his  custom,  Jonson  gives 
to  his  people  names  suggested  by  a  'humor'  or  some  predominant 
characteristic.     The  appropriateness  in  most  cases  will  be  readily 


Notes  137 

seen.  Quarlous  very  likely  is  a  contraction  of  quarrelous — quarrel 
used  in  its  old  legal  sense  of  a  'charge  or  accusation,  ground  for  a 
suit,'  its  applicability  resting  in  the  fact  that  Quarlous  had  been 
earlier  a  law  student  at  the  Inns  of  Court.  Why  Alice  is  the  name 
given  to  the  Mistresse  o'the  Game,  I  do  not  know.  Ursula  was  a 
common  name  for  a  kitchen-woman — see  note  on  34.  14. 

a  Banbury  man.    Cf.  note  on  14.  24. 

Knock-hvm.  A  Horse-courser.  A  horse-courser  bought  and  sold 
horses  already  in  use ;  to  be  distinguished  from  the  horse-dealer,  who 
traded  in  horses  of  his  own  rearing  and  training. 

ranger.  *A  sworn  officer  of  a  forest,  appointed  by  the  king's 
letters  patent,  whose  business  it  was  to  walk  through  the  forest, 
watch  the  deer,  prevent  trespasses,  etc' — C.  D.  The  term  is  used 
figuratively  and  goes  well  with  Mistresse  o'the  Game  (three  lines 
later).    Cf.  Dekker's  2  Honest  Whore,  3.  i. 

Inf.     My  lord  turned  ranger  now? 

Orl.  You're  a  good  huntress,  lady;  you  ha'  found  your  game  already:  your 
lord  would  fain  be  a  ranger,  but  my  mistress  requests  you  to  let  him  run  a 
course  in  your  own  park. 

Hunting  terms  were  commonly  employed  by  the  gallants  and  rogues 
for  their  dark  doings. 

TurnbuU.  Properly,  Turnmill.  The  latter  name  is  used  by  Stow, 
and  is  the  one  by  which  it  is  known  to-day.  It  is  a  short  street  in 
Clerkenwell,  between  Clerkenwell  Green  and  Cow  Cross.  It  was 
long  a  noted  haunt  for  harlots  and  disorderly  people.  Cf.  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher's  Scornful  Lady,  3.  2 : 

Here  has  been  such  a  hurry,  such  a  din. 

Such  dismal  drinking,  swearing,  and  whoring, 

'T  has  almost  made  me  mad: 

We    have    all    liv'd    in    a   continuall    Turnball-street. 

Also  2  Hen.  IV,  3.  2.  326. 


INDUCTION. 

5.  I  fif.  The  personal  and  confidential  tone  assumed  by  the  Stage- 
keeper  in  addressing  the  audience,  shows  unmistakably  the  influence 
of  Plautus'  prologues  (cf.  the  prologues  of  the  Captivi  and  Poenulus). 

5.  2  e'en  vpon  comming.  Upon,  used  adverbially  to  express 
progress  and  approach  in  time.  Cf.  Meas.  for  Meas.  4.  6.  14: 
*    .     .     .     and  very  near  upon  the  duke  is  entering.' 

5.  3  Proctor.  The  English  form  of  the  Latin  procurator,  denotes 
a  person  who  acts  for  another,  and  so  approaches  very  nearly  in 


138  Bartholomew  Fair 

meaning  to  agent.  In  a  sense  now  only  of  historical  interest,  the 
word  denoted  a  practitioner  in  the  ecclesiastical  and  admiralty  courts ; 
the  proctor  was  a  qualified  person  licensed  by  the  archbishop  of 
Canterbury  to  undertake  duties  performed  in  other  courts  by 
solicitors. — Encyc.  Britan. 

5.  5  He  playes  one  o'the  Arches.  A  proctor  of  the  Court  of 
Arches,  held  in  Bow  Church.  Cf.  11.  17  and  note,  also  Pepys' 
Diary,  Feb.  4,  1662-3. 

5.  9  Master  Broome.  Richard  Brome,  the  dramatist,  who  died 
about  1652.  He  was  of  humble  origin,  and  at  this  time  was  in  the 
service  of  Jonson.  Cf.  Jonson's  lines  on  Brome's  Northern  Lass 
(1632)  : 

I  had  you  for  a  servant  once,   Dick  Brome, 

And  you  performed  a  servant's  faithful  parts; 
Now  you  are  got  into  a  nearer  room 

Of  fellowship,  professing  my  old  arts. 
And  you  do  do  them  well,  with  good  applause, 

Which  you  have  justly  gained  from  the  stage. 
By  observation  of  those  comic  laws 

Which  I,  your  master,  first  did  teach  the  age. 

Underwoods,  28. 

5.  13  humors.  Mood  natural  to  one's  temperament,  peculiar 
characteristics.  Cf.  Ev.  Man  Out,  Induct;  Men  Wives,  i.  i.  3,  etc.; 
Hen.  V,  2.  I ;   also  Nares'  Glossary. 

5.  14  Bartholmew-birds.  Familiar  characters,  flitting  about 
and  generally  haunting  the  Fair.  Judging  from  Ursula,  Knockem, 
Whit,  Edgworth,  and  others,  we  should  think  that  the  Poet's 
acquaintance  with  them  was  amply  sufficient  for  any  but  the  most 
whimsical  of  stage-keepers.     Cf.  97.  13. 

5.  15  ne're  a  Sword,  and  Buckler  man  in  his  Fayre.  Popular 
combats  with  the  sword  and  buckler  date  back  to  the  Middle  Ages 
and  even  to  the  Saxon  gleemen.  Fuller  says  in  1662:  'West 
Smithfield  was  formerly  called  Ruffian  Hall,  where  such  men  usually 
met,  casually  or  otherwise,  to  try  masteries  with  sword  and  buckler; 
more  were  frightened  than  hurt,  hurt  than  killed  therewith,  it 
being  accounted  unmanly  to  strike  beneath  the  knee.  But  since  that 
desperate  tra3rtor  Rowland  Yorke  first  used  thrusting  rapiers,  swords 
and  bucklers  are  disused'  (cited  by  Strutt,  Sports,  261).  The 
change  to  the  rapiers  just  mentioned,  occurred  about  the  last  of 
the  sixteenth  century. 

5.  16  little  Dauy.  Cf.  Tarlton's  Jests,  161 1  (reprinted  in  Shakes- 
peare's Jest-Books)  : 

How  Tarlton  fought  with  Black  Davie. 

Not  long  since  lived  a  little  swaggerer,  called  Blacke  Davie,  who  would  at 
sword  and  buckler  fight  with  any  gentleman  or  other   for  twelve  pence.     He 


Notes  139 

being  hired  to  draw  upon  Tarlton  for  breaking  a  jest  upon  huffing  E^te,  a 
punke,  as  men  termed  her,  one  evening,  Tarlton  comming  forth  at  the  Court 
gate,  being  at  Whitehall,  and  walking  toward  the  Tilt  yard,  this  Davie  drew 
upon  Tarlton  who  on  the  sudden,  though  amazed,  drew  likewise,  and  enquired 
the  cause;    which  Davie  denied,  till  they  had  fought  a  bout  or  two. 

W.  C  Hazlitt  describes  Black  Davie  as  *A  bully  who  probably 
attached  himself  to  houses  of  ill-repute  and  took  part  with  the 
inmates  against  visitors.' 

5.  17  Kind-heart.  An  itinerant  tooth-drawer  frequently  alluded 
to  by  contemporary  writers.  He  is  the  one  who  delivers  the  invec- 
tives in  Henry  Chettle's  Kind  Hart's  Dreame,  1592  (reprinted  in 
Percy  Soc.  Early  Eng.  Poetry).  Cf.  Rowland,  The  Letting  of 
Humours  Blood  in  the  Head  Vaine: 

Not  as  kind-heart,  in  drawing  out  a  tooth; 
For  he  doth  ease  the  patient  of  his  pain. 

Thornbury  (i.  161-2),  describing  his  quackery,  calls  him  'the 
greatest  cheat  in  Christendome.'  Cf.  Pan's  Anniversary :  'A  tooth- 
drawer  is  our  foreman,  that  if  there  be  but  a  bitter  tooth  in  the 
company,  it  may  be  called  out  at  a  twitch:  he  doth  command  any 
man's  teeth  out  of  his  head  upon  the  point  of  his  poignard;  or 
tickles  them  forth  with  his  riding  rod:  he  draws  teeth  a  horseback 
in  full  speed,  yet  he  will  dance  a  foot,  he  hath  given  his  word:  he 
is  yeoman  of  the  mouth  to  the  whole  brotherhood,  and  is  charged 
to  see  their  gums  be  clean  and  their  breath  sweet,  at  a  minute's 
warning.' 

5.  18  lugler  with  a  wel-educated  Ape.  The  performances  of 
trained  animals  were  ever  popular  at  the  Fair.  The  actions  of 
the  ape  as  described,  showed  the  feeling  against  Spain  and  the 
Catholic  religion,  intensified  by  James'  well  known  project  for  an 
alliance  with  Spain.  When  Prince  Henry  died  in  1612,  James  saw 
his  project  thwarted;  but  he  considered  the  same  match  for  Charles 
as  early  as  1614  (cf.  Gardiner's  Hist,  of  Eng.  488).  Bartholomew 
Fair,  with  its  freedom  and  natural  spontaneous  humor,  was  an 
excellent  mirror  of  the  popular  sentiment  of  the  day.  (For  repro- 
duction of  an  old  cut  of  a  juggler  and  tumbling  ape,  see  Strutt,  241.) 

Cf.  Donne,  Sat.  1 : 

But  to  a  graue  man  hee  doth  moue  no  more 
Then  the  wise  politique* horse  would  heretofore, 
Or  thou,  O  Elephant,  or  Ape,  wilt  doe. 
When  any  names  the  k[ing]   of  Spaine  to  you. 

5.  24  and.  A  conditional  conjunction  meaning  'if;  usually 
written  an  by  later  writers.     This  second  form  is  found  as  early  as 


I40  Bartholomew  Fair 

1600,  but  it  is  and  or  an'  that  is  uniformly  employed  in  the  first 
print  of  Bartholomew  Fair. 

5.  24-  6.  2  'The  earthquake  .  .  .  i'the  Fayre,  made  by  some 
writer  that  I  know,  alludes,  I  think,  to  The  Faithful  Friends  V,  i 
(by  Daborne?  who  retired  in  1614),  "if  we  must  down,  let  us  make 
an  earthquake  tumbling." ' — Fleay,  Chron.  Eng.  Drama,  i.  377. 

6.  4  kick'd  me  three,  or  foure  times  about  the  Tyring-house. 
Cf.  113.  9,  where  Lantern  says  our  Tiring-house  is  somewhat  little, 
.  .  .  you  cannot  goe  vpright  in  't;  very  likely  these  allusions  were 
satirical,  referring  to  the  insufficient  accommodations  of  the  dressing- 
room. 

6.  II  Innes  o*Court.  The  well  known  colleges  for  the  study 
of  law;  the  Temple  (Inner  and  Middle),  Lincoln's  Inn,  and  Gray's 
Inn.  They  received  the  name,  Inns  of  Court,  in  the  reign  of  Edward 
II,  because  their  inhabitants  belonged  to  the  King's  Court  (Bray- 
ley,  Londiniana).  An  excellent  illustration  of  the  character  of  the 
witty  young  masters  is  to  be  found  in  one  of  their  number,  con- 
spicuous in  our  play,  Quarlous  (cf.  73.  24).  They  were  prominent 
at  times  among  the  gallants  who  sat  on  Ihe  stage  and  occasionally 
interrupted  the  play.  Sir  John  Davies  in  an  epigram  on  the 
theatre  speaks  of  'the  clamorous  fry  of  Inns  of  Court'  (cited  by 
Traill,  3.  569).  Fleay  (Chron.  Eng.  Drama,  i.  377),  sees  a  direct 
allusion  in  the  Pumpe  and  wity  young  masters  o'the  Innes  o'Court 
to  the  'stately  fountain'  in  the  Gray's  Inn  Mask  of  Flowers,  1614, 
Jan.  6. 

6.  13  Richard  Tarlton  was  a  comic  actor  of  enormous  popularity 
during  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  (he  died  1588).  In  1583,  on  the 
institution  of  the  Queen's  Players,  he  was  one  of  the  twelve  chosen 
to  form  the  company,  and  remained  one  of  the  Queen's  actor- 
servants  till  his  death.  He  had  a  remarkable  power  of  extempore 
wit,  and  is  said  to  have  started  the  people  laughing  when  he  'first 
peept  out  his  head'.  He  was  also  credited  with  the  ability  to  divert 
Queen  Elizabeth  when  her  mood  was  least  amiable.  It  has  been 
conjectured  with  great  likelihood  that  in  Hamlet's  elegy  on  Yorick, 
Shakespeare  was  paying  a  tribute  to  his  memory.  His  fame  was 
of  long  duration;  Gifford  says  that  it  retained  its  power  among  the 
vulgar  until  the  Revolution. — D.  N.  B. 

6.  16.  coozened  i'the  Cloath-quarter.  Probably  an  allusion  to 
Tarlton's  jest,  'How  fiddlers  fiddled  away  Tarlton's  apparel',  the 
substance  of  which  is  as  follows :  Some  London  musicians,  in 
return  for  his  benefactions  and  friendship,  gave  him  a  morning 
serenade  at  the  Saba  tavern,  where  he  was  staying.  He  at  once 
arose  and  recognized  the  attention  by  drinking  muscadine  with 
them.    A  cony-catcher  who  had  seen  Tarlton  pass  out  in  his  night- 


Notes  141 

gown  made  off  with  his  apparel.  The  news  of  this  spread,  and 
the  next  day,  when  Tarlton  was  playing  at  the  Curtain,  some  one 
threw  him  a  theme,  consisting  of  five  lines  in  doggerel  alluding  to 
his  loss,  to  which  Tarlton  at  once  replied  in  kind. 

From  early  times  the  Fair  had  been  divided  virtually  into  two 
parts,  that  within  and  that  without  the  Priory.  The  cattle-market, 
shows,  and  amusements  (the  scene  of  our  play)  occupied  most  of 
the  space  outside,  while  the  more  orderly  Cloth  Fair  was  within. 
For  two  centuries  preceding,  and  virtually  as  long  as  there  was 
need  of  such  an  institution,  Bartholomew  Fair  was  the  great  cloth 
fair  of  England.  And  during  that  period  when  cloth  ranked  first 
among  the  products  of  the  nation's  industry,  the  Fair  had  a  most 
important  influence  on  the  history  of  English  commerce.  As  early 
as  Elizabeth's  reign,  however,  its  greatness  as  a  cloth  fair  had  begun 
to  decline.  To  show  the  immense  business  that  could  be  transacted 
during  the  few  days  of  a  fair,  I  cite  Defoe's  description  of  Stour- 
bridge Fair,  a  century  later  {Tour  thro'  the  Island  of  Great  Britain, 
I-  93-94>  2d  ed.)  :  'In  this  Duddery,  as  I  have  been  inform' d,  there 
have  been  sold  One  Hundred  Thousand  Poundsworth  of  Woolen 
Manufactures  in  less  than  a  Week's  time;  besides  the  prodigious 
Trade  carry'd  on  here  by  Wholesale-Men  from  London,  and  all 
Parts  of  England,  who  transact  their  Business  wholly  in  their 
Pocket-Books,  and  meeting  their  Chapmen  from  all  Parts,  make 
up  their  Accounts,  receive  Money  chiefly  in  Bills,  and  take  Orders : 
These,  they  say,  exceed  by  far  the  Sales  of  Goods  actually  brought 
to  the  Fair,  and  deliver'd  in  Kind ;  it  being  frequent  for  the  London 
Wholesale  Men  to  carry  back  Orders  from  their  Dealers  for  ten 
Thousand  Pounds-worth  of  Goods  a  Man,  and  some  much  more.' 

6.  17  Adams,  the  Rogue.  An  actor  with  Tarlton,  according  to 
Fleay  {Chron.  Eng.  Drama,  i.  377). 

6.  18  dealt  his  vermine  about.  In  the  rough  sport,  the  fleas 
which  often  infested  the  huge,  padded  trunk  hose  would  be  dis- 
turbed and  scattered. 

6.  20  a  substantial!  watch  to  ha'  stolne  in  vpon  'hem,  etc. 
Whalley  regards  this  as  a  certain  sneer  at  Shakespeare,  a  satire  on 
Much  Ado,  4.  2.  Dogberry's  words,  'But,  masters  remember  that 
I  am  an  ass',  are  somewhat  similar  to  the  stage-keeper's  seven  lines 
above ;  and  the  blundering  watch  taking  away  Conrade  and  Borachio 
is  paralleled  here.  The  watch,  however,  had  become  almost  a. 
by-word  for  pompous  stupidity,  so  common  were  their  mistakesj 
It  was  a  subject  for  ridicule  in  other  plays  besides  Shakespeare's 
(cf.  Ordish,  Shak.  London,  190).  Thus  the  allusion  to  Shakes- 
peare's play,  which  Gifford  will  not  admit  to  be  such,  at  least  is  not 
sharply  defined.    As  Gifford  has  observed,  the  'sneer'    is  not  very 


142  Bartholomew  Fair 

effective  in  the  mouth  of  an  absurd  coxcomb  who  is  immediately 
driven  from  the  stage. 

6.  26  the  vnderstanding  Gentlemen  o*the  ground.  The  ground 
was  the  pit,  somewhat  lower  than  the  stage,  usually  without  seats 
so  that  the  people  stood  to  behold  the  play  (Collier,  Hist.  Dram. 
Poetry,  3.  335).  It  was  the  cheapest  place  of  admission,  and  was 
frequented  by  apprentices,  servants,  etc.  Hence  it  became  the  com- 
mon theme  for  punning  allusions.  Only  a  few  lines  later  (7.  24) 
we  have  the  grounded  ludgements  and  vnder standings.  Cf.  Hamlet, 
3.  2.  9;    also  Underwoods,  22. 

6.  29  broken  Apples  for  the  beares  within.  Apples  were 
commonly  sold  at  the  theatres  by  'costardmongers',  and  this 
passage  indicates  that  the  refuse  was  given  to  the  heares  within 
(the  animals  kept  for  the  bear-baiting  exhibits,  for  which,  when 
remodelling  the  Hope,  the  stage  had  been  made  in  a  frame  sup- 
ported by  trestles,  so  as  to  be  easily  removed). 

7.  I  such  a  youth  as  you.  H  he  had  kept  the  stage  in  Tarlton's 
time  (it  was  twenty-six  years  since  the  comedian's  death),  he  must 
have  been  fairly  advanced  in  years  at  this  time.  Thus  a  playful  touch 
was  intended  in  calling  him  youth. 

7.  13  the  Hope.  A  bear-garden  occupied  the  site  many  years 
before  and  after  the  theatre,  hence  the  present  Bear  Gardens  (a 
short  street  starting  from  the  Bankside  just  above  Southwark 
Bridge).  In  August,  1613,  the  Bear-garden  was  torn  down  and 
the  Hope  Theatre  was  erected,  'convenient  in  all  things  both  for 
players  to  play  in,  and  for  the  game  of  bears  and  bulls  to  be  baited 
in  the  same';  in  size  and  general  plan  it  was  similar  to  the  Swan 
Theatre.  The  Globe  had  been  destroyed  by  fire  shortly  before,  and 
an  attempt  was  made  to  secure  its  patronage  before  it  could  be 
rebuilt.  Unsuccessful  in  this,  after  about  two  years  the  Hope 
again  became  a  bear-garden.  For  a  small  picture  of  the  theatre, 
reproduced  from  Visscher's  View  of  London,  1616,  see  Ordish, 
Early  London  Theatres,  126.  An  excellent  idea  of  its  general  fea- 
tures may  be  gained  from  the  contract  for  its  construction  between 
Philip  Henslowe  and  Jacob  Maide,  and  Gilbert  Katherens,  cited  in 
Bos  well's  Malone's  Shakespeare,  3.  343-347,  ed.  1821. 

Bankeside.  Still  known  by  this  name.  This  was  the  old  haunt 
of  vice.  In  its  vicinity  the  Stews  had  flourished,  and  here,  in 
Jonson's  time,  were  located  most  of  the  theatres  (Globe,  Hope,  Rose, 
and  Swan).  See  the  Plans  of  Southwark  and  the  Bankside  in 
Harrison's  Descript.  of  Eng.  2.  66. 

7.  16  the  one  and  thirtieth  day  of  Octob.  1614.  This  fixes  with 
certainty  the  time  of  the  first  performance  of  Bartholomew  Fair. 
A  few  local  allusions  later  in  the  play  indicate  that  the  time  of 


Notes  143 

writing   preceded    production    only   by   a    short    interval    (c'l    note 
on  31.  24). 

7.  22  Spectators.  Jonson  commonly  showed  little  respect  or 
tolerance  for  the  spectators,  meaning  those  who  were  always  looking 
about  and  chiefly  interested  in  the  dress  of  the  actors  and  audience. 
Cf.  Staple  of  News,  Prologue :  'Would  you  were  come  to  hear,  not 
see  a  play.'    Also,  the  Prologue  for  the  Court  of  the  same  play: 

...     the  vulgar  sort 
Of  nut-crackers,  that  only  come  for  sight. 

The  spectators  are  here  classed  with  the  curious,  in  contrast  with 
the  hearers  and  iudicious. 

8.  I  and  to  offend  none.  There  were  those  who  went  to  the 
theatre,  notebook  in  hand,  ready  to  catch  the  slightest  allusion  that 
might  have  a  personal  or  political  significance. 

8.  3-4  Cf.  Dekker's  The  Gul's  Horn-Booke:  'And  that  your 
Car-man  and  Tinker  claime  as  strong  a  voice  in  their  suffrage,  and 
sit  to  giue  iudgement  on  the  plaies  life  and  death,  as  well  as  the 
prowdest  Monius  among  the  tribe  [s]  of  Critick.' 

euery  person  here,  haue  his  or  their  free-will  of  censure. 
On  the"  peculiar  use  of  pronouns,  see  Abbott,  p.  24. 

8.  6  six  pen*orth,  etc.  These  prices  are  higher  than  those  charged 
by  most  of  the  theatres  of  the  time.  A  partial  explanation  is  that 
it  was  a  'first  night',  when  according  to  Kiechel  (see  below)  the 
prices  were  double.  Traill  says  (3.  569)  :  'In  Elizabeth's  reign 
prices  varied  from  a  penny  to  a  shilling;  in  the  next  reign  they 
rose.  Twopenny  rooms  or  boxes  and  the  twopenny  gallery  are 
often  mentioned,  but  sixpence  seems  to  have  been  the  most  usual 
fee.  The  St.  Paul's  private  theatre  had  no  seats  at  less  than  four- 
pence.'  In  Rye's  England,  88,  we  have  Samuel  Kiechel's  observa- 
tion, 1585:  'It  may  indeed  happen  .  .  .  that  the  players  take 
from  fifty  to  sixty  dollars  [£io  to  ii2]  at  a  time,  particularly  if 
they  act  any  thing  new,  when  people  have  to  pay  double.  And 
.  .  .  they  perform  nearly  every  day  in  the  week ;  notwithstanding 
plays  are  forbidden  on  Friday  and  Saturday,  this  prohibition  is 
not  observed.'  Cf.  Marston,  Malcontent,  Induct. :  Sly.  'But  I 
say,  any  man  that  hath  wit  may  censure,  if  he  sit  in  the  twelve- 
penny  room;  and  I  say  again,  the  play  is  bitter.'  Also  Dekker, 
The  Gul's  Horn-Booke,  Works,  2.  247:  'When  your  Groundling 
and  gallery  Commoner  buyes  his  sport  by  the  penny.* 

8.  9  his  place  g^  not  aboue  his  wit.  The  whole  Induction  is 
a  good-humored  satire  on  the  ignorance  and  poor  taste  of  the 
audience,  the  especial  cause  being  the  lack  of  appreciation  shown 
Catiline.  It  is  probable  that  Ben  would  have  rated  the  wit  of  most 
of  his  audience  hardly  as  high  as  sixpence,  had  he  published  his 
estimates. 


144  Bartholomew  Fair 

8.  12  as  they  doe  for  lots  at  the  lottery.  Besides  the  private 
lotteries,  not  infrequent  at  this  time,  there  were  a  few  much  larger 
and  public.  The  King's  maiestie  in  special!  favor  for  the  pres- 
ent plantation  of  English  Colonies  in  Virginia,  granted  a  liberall 
Lottery,  in  which  was  contained  five  thousand  pound  in  prizes 
certayne,  besides  rewards  of  casualitie,  and  began  to  be  drawne,  in 
a  new  built  house  at  the  West  end  of  Paul's  the  29th  of  June,  1612. 
.  .  .  This  Lottery  was  so  plainely  carryed,  and  honestly  performed, 
that  it  gave  full  satisfaction  to  all  persons.' — Cited  by  Ashton, 
History  of  English  Lotteries,  28.  Arber's  English  Garner,  i.  77-100, 
contains  an  interesting  description  of  a  lottery  under  the  following 
title :  'The  Great  Frost.  Cold  doings  in  London,  except  it  be  at 
the  Lottery.  With  News  out  of  the  Country.  A  familiar  talk 
between  a  Countryman  and  a  Citizen  touching  this  terrible  Frost, 
and  the  Great  Lottery,  and  the  effects  of  them.'     [1608]. 

8.  25  leronimo.  Written  about  1585-7;  an  enlarged  edition  was 
published  in  1602,  the  additions  (as  indicated  by  entries  in  Hens- 
lowe's  Diary)  being  made  by  Jonson.  The  popularity  of  the  new 
form  was  very  marked,  and  further  editions  followed  rapidly  (1603, 
1611,  1615,  1618,  1623,  1633,  etc.).  For  a  discussion  of  Jonson's 
authorship  of  the  additions,  see  Boas'  Thomas  Kyd,  Ixxxv-lxxxix. 
No  other  play  in  Jonson's  time  or  in  the  generation  following, 
received  such  ample  recognition  in  the  way  of  quotation  by  other 
dramatists.     Cf.  Alchem.  4.  4: 

Thou  must  borrow 
A  Spanish  suit;    hast  thou  no  credit  with  the  players?     .     .     . 
Hieronimo's  old  cloak,  rufiF,  and  hat  will  serve. 

(Jonson  here  may  have  had  in  mind  the  costume  which  he  himself 
had  worn;  for  according  to  Dekker  [v.  Satiro-mastix]  he  had  once 
played  the  part  of  Hieronimo.)  See  also,  for  allusion  or  quota- 
tion, Ev.  Man  In,  i.  4;  Cynthia's  Revels,  Induct.;  Poetaster,  3.  i; 
Alchem.  3.  2;  New  Inn,  2.  2;  Tale  of  a  Tub,  3.  4;  K.  lohn,  2.  i; 
3  Hen.  VI,  5.  6;   T.  of  Shreiv,  Induct,  i. 

Andronicus,  Cf.  Henslowe's  Diary,  33 :  1593-4.  *Rd  at  titus  and 
ondronicus,  the  23  of  Jenewary  iii^  viii^'.  Collier  says  this  entry 
is  marked  ne,  a  sign  used  by  Henslowe  to  distinguish  the  original 
production  of  a  play,  so  this  fixes  its  date.  The  sum  received  for 
admissions  is  considerably  larger  than  usual,  and  is  an  evidence  of 
the  popularity  of  this  sanguinary  drama.  Titus  Andronicus  was 
entered  in  the  Stationers'  Registers,  1594 :   printed,  1600. 

8.  26  vnexcepted  at.  This  verb  occurs  nowhere  else,  so  far  as 
I  know.  However,  cf.  'He  excepts  at  Gassendus's  animadverting 
on  Aristotle's  manners.' — Glanvill,  1665  (cited  by  N.  E.  D.). 

9.  9    in  as  good  Equipage.    Dress,   'get  up'. 


Notes  145 

9.  12-15  meditant,  searchant,  etc.,  are  formed  in  imitation  of  the 
heraldic  terms  in  -ant. 

9.  15  a  Seruant-monster,  etc.  'Our  author,  and  who  can  help 
it,  is  still  venting  his  sneers  at  Shakespeare.  The  servant-monster 
is  the  character  of  Caliban  in  the  Tempest:  the  nest  of  antiques 
is  the  clowns  who  dance  in  the  Winter's  Tale;  and,  lest  he  should 
be  thought  not  to  speak  plainly  enough,  he  expressly  mentions  those 
plays  in  the  next  sentence.' — W.  On  the  other  hand,  Gifford  as 
usual  champions  Jonson's  cause,  and  in  a  long  note  contends  that 
no  such  allusion  is  evident,  arguing  that  drolleries  was  a  term 
commonly  applied  to  puppet-shows,  and  that  the  Tales  and  Tempests 
that  make  nature  afraid  were  no  other  than  puppet-plays  that  had 
been  given  at  the  Fair,  such  as  The  Creation  of  the  World,  The 
Destruction  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  The  Story  of  Jonas  and  the 
Whale;  that  the  nest  of  antiques  was  accordingly  characters  or 
beasts  of  the  puppet-plays;  and  that  as  this  was  a  time  when 
monsters,  which  were  extremely  popular,  were  commonly  exhibited 
near  the  puppet-plays  at  the  Fair,  the  servant-monster  would  refer 
not  necessarily  to  Caliban.  Whether  there  is  allusion  to  Shakes- 
peare's plays  or  not — and  though  Malone,  Steevens,  and  Coleridge 
take  nearly  the  same  ground  as  Whalley,  everything  in  the  context 
is  so  directly  connected  with  the  Fair  that  I  find  myself  inclined  to 
Gifford's  position — it  is  altogether  too  good-natured  to  be  classed 
among  'the  base  and  silly  sneers  at  Shakespeare,'  as  Coleridge  char- 
acterizes th^m.  {Literary  Remains,  2.  283).  Even  Whalley  in  a  later 
portion  of  the  note  whch  I  have  partially  cited,  admits  that  the 
satire  was  designed  'not  so  much  to  ridicule  Shakespeare  for  his 
invention,  as  the  passion  of  the  mob  for  spectacle  of  this  kind.' 

9.  31  Mirror  of  Magistrates.  The  Mirror  for  Magistrates,  2l 
large  work,  consisting  of  poems  on  'The  Falles  of  Vnfortvnate 
Princes'.  It  was  begun  by  William  Baldwin  [not  R.  Baldwine,  as 
Gifford,  citing  Whalley,  says],  who  published  the  first  four  poems 
in  1559.  The  greater  part  of  the  work  is  by  John  Higgins,  who 
published  his  contributions  in  1587.  It  was  republished  by  Richard 
Niccols  in  1610.  This  title  with  variations  was  used  repeatedly  by 
writers  of  the  time;  e.  g.  The  Mirror  for  Mutability,  Mirror  of 
Mirth,  A  Mirror  for  Magistrates  of  Cities,  Mirror  for  Mathematics, 
Mirror  of  Monsters,  etc. 

10.  6-9  to  challenge  the  Author  ...  of  prophanenesse. 
Cf.  Statutes  of  the  Realm:  1605-6.  3°  Jac.  I.  c.  21,  22:  'For  the 
preventing  and  avoyding  of  the  greate  Abuse  of  the  Holy  Name  of 
God  in  Stageplayes  Interludes  Maygames  Shewes  and  such  like; 
Be  it  enacted  by  our  Soveraigne  Lorde  the  Kings  Majesty,  and  by 
the  Lordes  Spirituall  and  Temporall,  and  Commons  in  this  present 
Parliament  assembled,    .    .    .    any  person  or  persons  doe  or  shall 


146  Bartholomew  Fair 

in  any  stage  play  .  .  .  jestingly  or  prophanely  speake  or  use 
the  holy  Name  of  God  or  of  Christ  Jesus,  or  of  the  Holy  Ghoste 
or  of  the  Trinitie,  which  are  not  to  be  spoken  but  with  feare  and 
reverence,  shall  forfeite  for  everie  such  Offence  by  hym  or  them 
committed  Tenne  Pounde,  the  one  Moytie  thereof  to  the  Kings 
Majestic  his  Heires  and  Successors,  the  other  Moytie  thereof  to 
hym  or  them  that  will  sue  for  the  same  in  any  Courte  of  Recorde 
at  Westminster,  wherein  no  Essoigne  Proteccion  or  Wager  of  Lawe 
shalbe   allowed/ 

Profanity  was  extremely  common.  Stubbes  says :  'It  is  vsed  and 
taken  there  for  a  vertue.  So  that  he  that  can  lashe  out  the  bloudiest 
othes,  is  coumpted  the  bravest  fellowe:  For  (saie  thei)  it  is  a 
signe  of  a  coragious  harte,  or  a  valiaunt  stomacke,  &  of  a  generoseous, 
heroicall,  and  puissant  mynde.  ...  By  continuall  vse  whereof, 
it  is  growne  to  this  perfection,  that  at  euery  other  worde,  you  shal 
heare  either  woundes,  bloud,  sides,  harte,  nailes,  foote,  or  some 
other  parte  of  Christes  blessed  bodie,  yea,  sometymes  no  parte 
thereof  shalbe  left  vntorne  of  these  bloudie  Villaines'  (Anat.  of 
Abuses,  132-3). 

10.  16  as  durty  as  Smithfield,  and  as  stinking  euery  whit. 
It  is  not  strange  that  at  a  time  when  small  attention  was  given  to 
the  cleanliness  of  private  houses,  a  public  theatre  where  also  bear- 
baitings  frequently  took  place  should  have  been  dirty  and  ill-smelling. 
Of  the  filth  of  Smithfield  Morley  says :  'Rain,  and  the  cattle  brought 
thither  for  sale,  had  made  the  place  almost  impassible.'  'Bartholo- 
mew Fair  in  a  wet  August  before  the  year  1614  must  have  been  a 
slough  of  pleasure,  difficult  indeed  to  struggle  through.'  It  was  paved 
1614-15  by  the  order  of  the  king  at  an  expense  of  ii6oo. 

10.  20-22  This  is  a  reference  to  the  'Commodity'  swindle,  com- 
mon at  this  time,  and  the  subject  of  many  allusions  in  contemporary 
literature.  It  was  practiced  upon  young  gallants  in  need  of  ready 
money.  Greene  in  his  Defence  of  Cony-Catching  {Works,  11.  53) 
tells  of  a  man  who  in  borrowing  iioo,  could  obtain  only  £40  in 
silver,  and  had  to  take  the  other  £60  in  'wares,  dead  stuffe  God 
wot;  as  Lute  strings.  Hobby-horses,'  etc.  In  Middleton's  Michael- 
mas Term  there  is  a  fine  example  of  the  trick.  Easy  cannot  borrow 
any  ready  money  from  Quomodo,  but  secures  on  his  bond  the  loan 
of  £200  in  very  cheap  woolens,  which  Quomodo  buys  back  through 
his  secret  agent  for  £60.  We  can  well  imagine  that  those  of  Jonson's 
audience  who  had  invested  in  £60  worth  of  hobby-horses  would  not 
be  particularly  interested  in  seeing  them  on  the  stage.  Wheatley  in 
his  Every  Man  in  his  Humour,  119,  cites  the  following  from  E. 
Guilpin  (1598)  : 

He  is  a  gull,  that  for  commoditie 

Pays  tenne  times  ten,  and  sells  the  same  for  three. 


Notes  147 


ACT  I. 

II.  4  Harrow  o'th  hill.  Ten  miles  northwest  of  London,  and 
occupying  the  only  hill  in  that  region ;   known  for  its  famous  school. 

II.  12  One  o'the  pretty  wits  o'Pauls.  The  middle  aisle  of  St. 
Paul's,  commonly  called  'Duke  Humphrey's  Walk'  or  'Paul's  Walk', 
was  the  common  news-room  of  London ;  here  lawyers  received  their 
clients,  the  unemployed  looked  about  for  masters,  accounts  were 
settled,  and  the  gallants  passed  many  idle  hours.  The  wits  and 
poets  gave  it  various  names:  Thieves'  Sanctuary',  'Little  Britain', 
'World's  Epitome',  'Babel  of  stones  and  men',  'Synod  of  politic 
pates',  'Busy  parliament',  'Mint  of  lies',  etc.  (cf.  Thornbury,  i.  114). 
A.  3,  Sc.  I  of  Every  Man  Out  of  his  Humor  is  laid  at  the  'Middle 
Aisle  of  St.  Paul's' ;   so  also  is  Middleton's  Michaelmas  Term,  i.  1. 

II.  17  out  o'the  Archdeacons  Court,  etc.  Probably  another 
allusion  to  the  Court  of  Arches,  where  Littlewit  was  a  proctor. 
This  was  the  Archbishop's  court,  but  archdeacons  may  have  pre- 
sided when  petty  matters  were  considered.  Strype,  i.  513,  gives 
the  following  description  of  this  Court  (cited  by  Wh.  Cun.  i.  508)  : 
'It  was  a  court  formerly  kept  in  Bow  Church  in  Cheapside,  and 
the  church  and  tower  thereof  being  arched,  the  court  was  from  hence 
called  the  Arches,  and  so  still  is  called.  Hither  are  all  appeals 
directed  in  ecclesiastical  matters  within  the  province  of  Canter- 
bury. To  this  court  belongs  a  judge,  who  is  styled  the  Dean  of  the 
Arches;  so  called  because  he  hath  a  jurisdiction  over  a  deanery  in 
London,  consisting  of  thirteen  parishes  [formerly],  exempt  from  the 
jurisdiction  of  the  Bishop  of  London.' 

11.  18    lack.    A  common  name  for  a  serving-man  or  scullion. 

12.  4  Budge-row.  'A  street  so  called  of  the  Budge  fur,  and 
of  skinners  dwelling  there.' — Stow.  It  is  the  east  end  of  Watling 
Street. 

12.  6  like  the  Spanish  Lady.  The  English  in  their  excessive 
fondness  for  dress  borrowed  styles  from  France,  Spain,  and  many 
other  countries.  Allusions  to  Spanish  shoes  are  not  infrequent  at 
this  time,  especially  referring  to  the  leather ;  the  best  was  cordovan, 
from  Cordova.  The  shoes  worn  in  James'  reign,  as  described  and 
illustrated  by  Planche,  are  for  the  most  part  very  low,  hardly  more 
than  slippers.  I  know  of  nothing  very  definite  regarding  the  Spanish 
lady  and  her  high  shoes. 

12.  15  A  poxe  o'these  pretenders,  to  wit.  The  pretenders 
were  Jonson  and  his  circle,  Shakespeare,  Beaumont,  Fletcher,  etc., 
who  frequented  these  taverns,  especially  the  Mermaid.  The  Three 
Cranes  was  situated  on  Upper  Thames  Street  at  the  top  of  what  is 
still  known  as  Three  Cranes  Lane,  just  below  Southwark  Bridge. 


148  Bartholomew  Fair 

This  tavern  was  much  frequented  by  the  booksellers.  The  Mitre 
is  mentioned  in  some  of  the  early  vestry  books,  as  on  Cheapside, 
and  also  as  on  Bread  Street;  probably  it  was  situated  back  from 
the  main  thoroughfare,  approached  by  passages  from  both  of  the 
streets  mentioned.  The  Mermaid  was  situated  on  Bread  Street, 
Cheapside.    Cf.  Epigram  133: 

At  Bread-street's  Mermaid  having  dined,  and  merry. 
Proposed  to  go  to  Holborn  in  a  wherry. 

Inviting  a  Friend  to  Supper: 

A  pure  cup  of  rich  Canary  wine. 

Which  is  the  Mermaid's  now,  but  shall  be  mine. 

Also  Beaumont's  well-known  lines  in  his  Letter  to  Ben  Jonson. 
A.  5,  sc.  4  of  Every  Man  Out  of  his  Humor  is  laid  at  the  Mitre; 
cf.  Middleton's  Your  Five  Gallants,  2.  i : 

Where  sup  we,  gallants?     .     .     . 
Why,  the  Mitre,  in  my  mind,  for  neat  attendance, 
diligent  boys,  and — push!    excels  it  far. 

13.  I  I  challenge  all  Cheapside,  to  shew  such  another.  Long 
before  this  as  well  as  after,  Cheapside  was  famed  for  its  silk-mer- 
cers, linen-drapers  and  hosiers. 

Morefields.  A  fen  outside  of  the  city  walls,  to  the  north.  It 
had  been  drained  nearly  a  century  previous,  but  was  not  laid  out  in 
walks  until  1606.  A  vestige  of  the  name  still  survives  in  Finsbury 
(or  Fensbury)  Square  and  Finsbury  Circus. 

13.  2  Pimlico  path.  A  popular  resort  during  the  summer  months 
near  Hoxton. 

the  Exchange.  This  was  the  first  Royal  Exchange  built  1566- 
1570,  and  destroyed  in  the  Great  Fire  of  1666. 

13.  9-1 1  Winwife's  figurative  description  of  Littlewit's  delicates, 
suggests  a  London  quite  different  from  that  of  to-day.  Then,  it 
was  but  a  short  walk  beyond  the  north  wall  to  the  uncleared  forests, 
where  Ursula  probably  got  the  green  boughs  to  trim  her  booth,  and 
there  were  gardens  even  in  the  center  of  the  city.  Cf.  Richard  III, 
3-  4.  34: 

When  I  was  last  in  Holborn, 

I  saw  good  strawberries  in  your  garden  there: 

I  do  beseech  you  send  for  some  of  them. 

13.  20  a  fine  young  father  i'law,  with  a  fether.  Many  of  the 
hats  worn  at  this  time  were  exceedingly  plain,  absolutely  without 
ornament.  But  Dekker  in  his  Horn-Booke  (1609)  observes:  'When 
your  noblest  Gallants  consecrate  their  houres  to  their  Mistresses  and 
to  Reuelling,  they  weare  fethers  then  chiefly  in  their  hattes,  being 


Notes  149 

one  of  the  fairest  ensignes  of  their  brauery.'  Cf.  Middleton's  Roar- 
ing Girl,  2.  I : 

What  feather  is't  you'd  have,  sir? 
These  are  most  worn  and  most  in  fashion: 
Amongst  the  beaver  gallants,  the  stone  riders, 
The  private  stage's  audience,  the  twelve-penny-stool  gentlemen, 
I  can  inform  you  'tis  the  general  feather. 

Cokes  after  his  many  humiliations  at  the  Fair  still  finds  pride  in 
recalling  that  at  least  at  the  beginning  of  the  day  he  wore  a  feather 

(113.  13). 

13.  21  might  hood  it,  and  chaine  it.  An  unusual  expression, 
the  force  of  which  rests  on  the  rank  and  dignity  earlier  signified  by 
the  wearing  of  a  hood  and  of  a  chain.  Those  privileged  to  wear 
a  gold  chain  a  century  before  had  been  designated  by  law  (v. 
Statutes  of  the  Realm,  7°  Henry  VIII.  c.  6).  Dame  Purecraft,  if 
married  to  Winwife,  a  gentleman,  would  acquire  rank  that  would 
permit  her  to  make  a  display  and  assume  airs  of  importance  such 
as  Mrs.  Overdo,  a  justice's  wife,  affected.     Cf.  note  on  23.  20. 

13.  27  winke  vpon.  Cf.  T.  G.  of  Ver.  2.  4.  98 :  'Upon  a  homely 
object  Love  can  wink.'  Our  idiom  to  'wink  to'  or  *at',  however, 
was  also  used  at  this  time. 

13.  28  one  (Master  Quarlous).  A  certain  Master  Quarlous. 
The  punctuation  is  improved  by  omitting  the  parenthesis,  and  plac- 
ing a  comma  after  Quarlous. 

13.  30    tokenworth.     See  note  on  token,  39.  15. 

14.  5  natiuity-water  cast  lately  by  the  Cunning  men.  Lilly  in 
his  History  of  his  Life  and  Times  tells  how  people  of  high  rank 
sent  urine  to  him ;  for  by  this  means,  it  was  commonly  believed,  the 
future  could  be  foretold  and  secrets  revealed.  Cf.  Butler's  Hudibras, 
2.  3-  105 : 

Quoth  Ralph,  Not  far  from  hence  doth  dwell 
A  cunning  man,  hight  Sidrophel, 
That  deals  in   destiny's   dark  counsels.    .    .    . 
To  him  with  questions,  and  with  urine. 
They  for  discov'ry  flock,  or  curing. 

Subtle  in  the  Alchemist  was  a  cunning  man,  though  of  another  type. 
Drummond  gives  further  testimony  in  the  Conversations  of  Jonson's 
knowledge  of  these  gifted  men  and  their  art:  *He  can  set  horo- 
scopes, but  trusts  not  in  them.  He  with  the  consent  of  a  friend 
cousened  a  lady,  with  whom  he  had  made  ane  apointment  to  meet 
ane  old  Astrologer,  in  the  suburbs,  which  she  keeped;  and  it  was 
himself  disguysed  in  a  longe  gowne  and  a  whyte  beard  at  the  light 
of  dimm  burning  candles,  up  in  a  little  cabinet  reached  unto  by  a 
ledder.' 


150  Bartholomew  Fair 

14.  6  Cow-lane.  Now  King  Street,  running  from  Smithfield 
to  Snow  Hill. 

14.  9  and  when  it  is.  Is,  equivalent  to  'happens'  or  'comes  to 
pass'.  Cf.  Mer.  of  Venice,  5.  176:  'An  'twere  to  me,  I  should  be 
mad  at  it/ 

14.  13  Bedlem.  'Then  an  hospital  of  St.  Mary  of  Bethelem, 
founded  by  Simon  Fitz  Mary,  one  of  the  sheriffs  of  London,  in  the 
year  1246.  ...  In  this  place  people  that  be  distraight  in  wits 
are,  by  the  suit  of  their  friends,  received  and  kept  as  afore,  but  not 
without  charges  to  their  bringers  in.' — Stow,  Survey  of  London, 
62.  The  site  of  the  original  hospital  is  on  Liverpool  Street,  near 
Bishopgate,  within.  In  1815  the  present  Bethlehem  Hospital  was 
completed,  which  is  located  on  Lambeth  Road,  St.  George's  Fields. 
The  name  popularly  is  still  Bedlam.  By  the  beginning  of  the  17th 
century,  Bethlehem  Hospital  had  become  one  of  the  sights  of  Lon- 
don ;  thus  in  Epicoene,  4.  2,  Lady  Haughty  advises  the  young  bride 
to  tame  her  husband  by  making  him  attend  her  to  the  sights  of 
London :  'And  go  with  us  to  Bedlam,  to  the  china-houses,  and  to 
the  Exchange.' 

14.  16  confederacy.  Conspiracy.  'The  trick  was  well  under- 
stood at  this  period,  and  still  better  in  that  which  immediately  fol- 
lowed. Foreman,  and  most  of  the  cheats  celebrated  by  that  prince 
of  imposters,  Lilly,  seem  to  have  derived  their  chief  support  from 
it.'— G. 

14.  17    practice  vpon  her.    Trickery  against  her. 

14.  23  Elder.  Busy  seems  to  have  been  one  of  the  lay  clergy 
who,  without  any  training  or  authorization,  began  to  preach  as 
impulse  moved  them,  relying  on  voluntary  contributions  for  their 
support. 

14.  24  Banbury.  For  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  previous, 
Banbury  had  been  a  stronghold  of  Puritans.  Thomas  Brasbridge 
ceased  to  be  its  vicar  in  1590,  because  he  objected  to  the  monarch's 
ecclesiastical  usurpation.  In  1602  the  citizens  in  their  zeal  destroyed 
the  public  cross  and  defaced  the  ornaments  of  the  cathedral.  Wil- 
liam Whately,  vicar  of  Banbury,  1610-1640,  was  called  the  'Roaring 
Boy  of  Banbury';  his  disciple  and  biographer  Scudder  says  of 
him:  'According  as  his  matter  in  hand  and  his  auditory  needed, 
he  was  both  a  terrible  Boanerges,  a  son  of  thunder,  and  also  a  Barna- 
bas, a  son  of  sweet  consolation.' — (Cited  by  Morley,  Mem.  180). 
Fuller  seems  to  have  identified  him  with  Rabbi  Busy:  'Indeed  he 
was  a  good  linguist,  philosopher,  mathematician,  divine;  and 
(though  a  poetical,  satirical  pen  is  pleased  to  pass  a  jeer  upon  him) 
free  from  faction.' — (Cited  by  Morley,  Mem.  181). 


Notes  151 

To  Banbury  came  I,  O  prophane  one! 
There  I  saw  a  Puritane  one 
Hanging  of  his  cat  on  Monday, 
For  killing  of  a  mouse  on  Sunday. 

Brathwaite,  Drunken  Barnaby's  Four  Journeys 
(cited  in  Chambers'  Book  of  Days). 

14.  25  that  the  sweet  singers  may  be  restor'd.  Since  the  Con- 
venticle Act  of  Elizabeth,  1593,  the  Puritans  had  not  been  allowed 
to  worship  independently,  and  those  who  had  persisted  in  doing  so, 
were  imprisoned,  and  in  certain  cases  kept  in  captivity  without  trial 
for  a  long  term  of  years. 

14.  27  the  spirit  is  so  strong  with  him.  With  and  not  'within' 
him,  since  Busy  regarded  his  zeal  as  a  spirit  quite  outside  him,  which 
took  possession  and  directed  his  speech  and  actions  as  in  apostolic 
times.     Cf.  127.  17. 

14.  29  Aqua  coelestis.  'Not,  I  believe,  what  Horace  calls  aqua 
ccelestis,  but  some  kind  of  strong  water;  perhaps  aqua  vitae  or 
brandy.' — G. 

14.  34  He  cannot  abide  my  Vocation.  This  is  also  the  first 
charge  against  the  actors,  brought  by  Busy  in  his  controversy  with 
the  puppets  (127.  24),     Evidently  his  favorite  point  of  attack. 

14.  36    Beast.    Anti-Christ;   cf.  Rev.  13.  2;   20.  4. 

15.  1-2  The  proctor's  duties  were  similar  to  those  of  a  solicitor. 
Cf.  note  on  5.  3. 

15.  6  ha'  you  tane  soyle,  here?  'To  take  soil,  to  run  into  the 
water  or  a  wet  place,  as  an  animal  when  pursued;  hence  to  take 
refuge  or  shelter.' — C.  D. 

15.  9  vngentle  manly  houres.  The  gallapt  usually  did  not  rise 
till  about  noon. 

15.  10  one  of  these  Rag-rakers.  It  is  interesting  to  note  how 
old  is  the  custom,  common  in  all  our  large  cities,  of  rag-pickers' 
raking  over  the  contents  of  refuse  piles,  early  in  the  morning  when 
scarcely  any  one  is  stirring.     Cf.  Alchem.  1.  i : 

When  you  went  pinn'd  up  in  the  several  rags 

You  had  raked  and  pick'd  from  dunghills,  before  day. 

15.  II  or  some  Marrow-bone  man  at  most.  Marrow-hones 
was  often  used  for  'knees'  with  a  somewhat  humorous  significance; 
e.  g.  Dekker,  Works,  i.  114.  A  Marrow-bone  man  was  a  praying 
man;  he  rose  very  early  in  his  zeal  to  attend  to  his  devotions, 
perhaps  also  to  escape  religious  persecution.  Cf.  The  Puritan,  2.  1 : 
(Lady  Plus  speaking  of  her  dead  husband,  who  was  a  Puritan)  'A 
man  that  would  keep  church  so  duly;  rise  early,  before  his  servants, 
and  even  for  religious  haste,  go  ungartered,  unbuttoned,  nay  (sir 
reverence)  untrussed,  to  morning  prayer.' 


152  Bartholomew  Fair 

15.  17  Lime-hounds.  Dogs  used  in  hunting  the  wild  boar,  so 
called  from  being  led  by  a  lime  or  learn. 

15.  18  sent.  An  old  and  historically  more  correct  spelling  of 
scent.  <ME.  senten  <F.  sentir  <L.  sentire.  The  old  spelling  still 
appears  in  the  compounds  'assent',   'dissent',  etc. — C.  D. 

15.  19  a  hot  night.  Hot  because  of  the  wine,  etc.  Cf.  modern 
slang. 

15.  20  shal  we  pluck  a  hayre  o*  the  same  Wolfe.  *A  proverbial 
phrase  for  getting  intoxicated  again,  with  the  same  liquor.' — G. 

15.  24  Discourse  is  here  used  transitively;  cf.  Hamlet,  3.  2.  374: 
'It  will  discourse  most  eloquent  music' 

15.  27  harke  you  Sir,  had  you  forgot.  Irregular  sequence  of 
tenses,  not  uncommon  among  the  Elizaljethans ;    cf.  Abbott,  p.  269. 

16.  2  'Jonson  had  the  Greek  adage  in  his  thoughts,  Mt<rw  fivrifiova 
ffVfiiroTTiv/ — G. 

16.  15  Compare  this  with  the  readiness  with  which  she  listens 
to  Whit's  evil  persuasions  (A.  4),  but  a  few  hours  later. 

16.  27  fall  in.  Become  reconciled.  Cf.  Troi.  and  Cres.  3.  i.  112: 
'Falling  in,  after  falling  out,  may  make  them  three.' 

16.  32  Apple-Iohn.  A  variety  of  apple ;  also  a  nickname  applied 
to  the  disreputable  Shift  in  Ev.  Man  Out.  The  significance  of  its 
use  here,  according  to  Gifford,  consists  in  the  punning  allusion  to 
'apple-squire',  a  pimp  or  procurer.  Greene  mentions  the  latter  term 
as  used  by  rogues  (cf.  Works,  10.  37),  being  applied  to  a  bawd,  if 
a  man. 

if  you  vse  this.    If  you  make  a  practice  of  this. 

16.  33  for  my  respect  somewhat.  Partly  out  of  respect  due 
to  me. 

17.  I  in  possibility.  A  vestige  of  Quarlous'  quondam  acquaint- 
ance with  barristers  and  law  books  at  the  Inns  of  Court.  Possi- 
bility is  a  legal  term,  still  used  of  contingent  interests. 

17.  3  To  Totnam  to  eat  creame.  Tottenham,  for  so  many  years 
known  as  a  popular  pleasure  resort,  even  at  this  time  apparently 
had  something  of  such  a  character. 

17.  5  drawing  after  an  old  reuerend  Smocke  by  the  splay- 
foote.  Drawing  after  is  a  hunting  term  applied  to  a  dog's  approach- 
ing the  game  by  the  scent.  Thus  Quarlous  says  that  Winwife  is 
guided  in  his  widow-hunting  by  the  splay-foot  (broad  flat  foot 
turned  outwards)  ;    i.  e.  he  seeks  only  the  old  and  ugly. 

17.  7  Tripe  or  Trillibub.  The  two  words  are  practically  identi- 
cal in  meaning,  and  are  used  figuratively  for  any  worthless  person. 

17.  8    nosing  it.    Another  of  Quarlous'  hunting  metaphors. 

17.  10  Buffe  was  leather  of  a  dull,  whitish-yellow  color  (prop- 
erly of  buffalo)  generally  made  from  the  hide  of  an  ox,  used  by  ser- 
geants and  others  for  jerkins. 


Notes  153 

Pannyer-alley.  'Leading  from  Paternoster  row  into  Newgate 
street.  It  took  its  name  from  the  sign  of  a  pannier  anciently  at 
one  corner  of  it,  and,  in  Jonson's  days,  was  chiefly  inhabited  by 
tripe-sellers.' — G. 

17.  19  according  to  thy  inches.  As  Whalley  observed,  this 
was  probably  suggested  by  Juvenal,  Sat.  i.  i.  41 :  'Partes  quisque 
suas  ad  mensuram  inquinis  heres.' 

17.  23  quartane  ague.  *A  malarial  fever  in  which  the  par- 
oxysms recur  on  every  fourth  day.' — S.  D. 

17.  24  black  laundise.  A  kind  of  jaundice  where  the  coloration 
of  the  skin  is  especially  dark  (known  in  medicine  as  the  black 
icterus). 

17.  25    Spinner.    A  spider;   cf.  M.  N.  Dream,  2.  2.  20. 

17*  31-34*  The  saying  of  grace  at  meals  was  a  rite  the  Puritans 
were  very  careful  to  observe.  Stubbes  says  (p.  iii)  :  'We  ought 
neuer  to  take  morsell  of  bread,  nor  sope  of  drinke,  without  humble 
thankes  to  the  Lord  for  the  same.'  The  Puritans  were  satirized  by 
other  dramatists  for  long  graces;  cf.  Middleton,  Family  of  Love, 
3.  3:  'I  do  use  to  say  inspired  graces,  able  to  starve  a  wicked  man 
with  length';    also  Marston,  Sat.  2: 

And  at  the  op'ning  and  at  our  stomach's  close. 
Says  with  a  turn'd-up  eye  a  solemn  grace 
Of  half  an  hour. 

I?'  36  painefuU  eaters.  'Eaters',  'feeders',  and  'cormorants',  not 
uncommonly  were  used  as  synonymous  with  servants.  See  Epicoene, 
3.  2.  (Cun.  G.  3.  394) J  Ev.  Man  Out,  5.  i  (Gun.  G.  2.  159),  and 
notes  on  both  passages. 

18.  3  Knoxe.  He  had  been  dead  forty-two  years,  but  his  influ- 
ence and  personality  were  still  strongly  felt. 

18.  5  hum-ha-hum.  In  the  Alchemist,  3.  2,  Subtle  similarly 
alludes  to  the  Puritans'  'long-winded  exercises',  and  to  their  sucking 
up  their  'ha!  and  hum!  in  a  tune.' 

18.  7  Apostle-spoones.  ¥  'They  were  of  a  round  bowl,  with  a  little 
head  at  the  end,  and  twelve  in  a  set;  from  whence  they  had  the 
name  of  apostle-spoons.  There  was  anciently  a  certain  unguent  or 
electuary  which  from  the  number  of  its  ingredients  was  called  apos- 
tolorum.'—W.  'The  spoons  had  their  name  from  the  figure  (not 
merely  the  head)  of  an  apostle,  with  which  they  were  generally 
ornamented.  These  and  caudle  cups  formed  almost  the  only  arti- 
cles of  plate  which  the  middling  rank  of  people  possessed  in  the 
poet's  days;  hence  they  were  esteemed  handsome  bequests,  presents 
at  christenings,  etc.  The  allusions  to  this  custom  are  endless  in  our 
old  dramatists.' — G. 


154  Bartholomew  Fair 

18.  18  Master  Bartholmew  Cokes — his  man.  Of  this  use  of 
his  the  N.  E.  D.  says,  'Chiefly  with  proper  nouns,  but  also  with 
others.  Found  already  in  OE.,  but  most  prevalent  from  c.  1400  to 
1750;  sometimes  identified  with  the  genitive  inflexion  -eSj  -is,  -ys, 
esp.  in  16- 1 7th  c,  when  it  was  chiefly  (but  not  exclusively)  used 
with  names  ending  in  -s,  or  when  the  inflexional  genitive  would  have 
been  awkward.  Archaically  retained  in  Bookkeeping  and  for  some 
other  technical  purposes.'  In  chap.  13  of  The  English  Grammar, 
Jonson  speaks  of  'the  monstrous  syntax  of  the  pronoun  his  joining 
with  a  noun  betokening  a  possessor.' 

18.  26  a  Baker.  It  is  interesting  to  note  this  early  allusion  to 
Banbury  cakes,  which  are  still  popular.  Cassell  dates  their  fame 
from  as  early  as  1608. 

18.  29    a  scruple  hee  tooke.    He  affected. 

18.  31  May-poles.  The  reason  for  Busy's  objections  may  be 
learned  from  Stubbes'  Anatomy  of  Abuses,  149 :  'But  the  cheifest  jewel 
they  bring  home  from  thence  [the  woods]  is  their  May-pole,  which 
they  bring  home  with  great  veneration  as  thus.  They  haue  twentie  or 
fourtie  yoke  of  Oxen,  euery  Oxe  hauing  a  sweet  nose-gay  of  flouers 
placed  on  the  tip  of  his  homes;  and  these  Oxen  drawe  home  this 
May-pole  (this  stinking  Ydol,  rather)  which  is  couered  all  ouer  with 
flouers  and  hearbs,  bound  round  about  with  strings  from  the  top 
to  the  bottome,  and  sometime  painted  with  variable  colours,  with 
two  or  three  hundred  men,  women  and  children  following  it  with 
great  deuotion.  And  thus  beeing  reared  vp,  with  handercheefs  and 
flags  houering  on  the  top,  they  straw  the  ground  rounde  about,  binde 
green  boughes  about  it,  set  vp  sommer  haules,  bowers,  and  arbors 
hard  by  it.  And  then  fall  they  to  daunce  about  it,  like  as  the 
heathen  people  did  at  the  dedication  of  the  Idols,  whereof  this  is 
a  perfect  pattern,  or  rather  the  thing  it  self.' 

Morrisses.  Brand  quotes  the  following  description  of  a  Morris- 
dance  contained  in  a  rare  old  poem,  Cohbe's  Prophecies,  his  Signes 
and  Tokens,  his  Madrigalls,  Questions  and  Answers,  161 4: 

It  was  my  hap  of  late,  by  chance, 
To  meet  a  country  Morris-dance, 
When,  cheefest  of  them  all,  the  Foole 
Plaied  with  a  ladle  and  a  toole; 
When  every  younker  skak't  his  bels, 
Till  sweating  feete  gave  fohing  smels: 
And  fine  Maide  Marian  with  her  smoile 
Shew'd  how  a  rascall  plaid  the  roile: 
But  when  the  hobby-horse  did  wihy, 
Then  all  the  wenches  gave  a  tihy: 
But  when  they  gan  to  skake  their  boxe. 
And  not  a  goose  could  catch  a  foxe. 
The  piper  then  put  up  his  pipes, 
And  all  the  woodcocks  look't  like  snipes. 


Notes\.Ck\\^oi>^  155 


Cf.  Chambers,  Mediaeval  Stage,  vol.  i,  chaps.  8,  9 ;  also  Brand,  Pop. 
Antiq.  For  cuts  of  a  morris-dancer  and  of  a  May-pole  celebration 
see  Stubbes,  Anat.  of  Abuses,  28,*  ss* 

18.  35    they  haue  all  such  names.     Cf.  Alchem.  3.  2: 

Nor  shall  you  need  to    .    .    .    call  yourselves 
By  names  of  Tribulation,   Persecution, 
Restraint,  Long-patience,  and  such  like,  affected 
By  the  whole  family  or  wood  of  you, 

Witnesse.     Cf.  Magnetic  Lady,  4.  3 : 

I  come  to  invite  your  ladyship 
To  be  a  witness;    I  will  be  your  partner. 
And  give  it  a  horn-spoon,  and  a  treen-dish. 

In  the  Puritan,  i.  3,  there  is  reference  to  the  same  scruple  in  the 
'un-godmother'd  varlets.' 

18.  37  you  thought  her  name  had  beene.  A  perfect  tense  in 
the  object  clause  following  a  perfect  tense  in  the  main  clause,  occurs 
also  many  times  in  Shakespeare;  v.  have  i)  in  Schmidt  for  examples. 

19.  4  a  Blew-starch-woman.  Colored  starches  were  much  in 
vogue  at  this  time.  The  attitude  of  the  Puritans  toward  this  vanity 
is  shown  by  Stubbes  {Anat.  of  Abuses,  52)  :  'The  one  arch  or  piller 
whereby  his  [the  devil's]  kingdome  of  great  ruffes  is  vnderpropped, 
is  a  certaine  kind  of  liquide  matter  which  they  call  Starch,  wherin 
the  deuill  hath  willed  them  to  wash  and  diue  his  ruffes  wel.' 

19.  5  A  notable  hypocriticall  vermine  it  is.  It  is  for  'he',  an 
uncommon  use  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence;  vermine  is  to  be  under- 
stood figuratively,  referring  to  Busy. 

19.  6  stands  vpon  his  face.  Face,  equivalent  to  'appearance'. 
Cf.  modern  slang. 

19.  14    Antiquity.     Classical  learning. 

19.  16  ha'  not  to  doe.  Again  the  shorter  form  as  in  18.  20, 
where  modern  English  customarily  uses  a  periphrasis. 

19.  20  god  you  good  morrow.  The  emendations  of  1692,  1716^ 
and  W,  are  quite  uncalled  for.  This  ellipsis  occurs  not  infrequently 
elsewhere.     Cf.  Rom.  and  Juliet,  2.  4.  115: 

God  ye  good  morrow,  gentlemen. 
God  ye  good  den,  fair  gentlewoman. 

19.  25  I  am  no  Clearke,  I  scorne  to  be  sau'd  by  my  booke, 
i*faith  I'll  hang  first.  Of  interest  as  suggesting  an  event  in  Jonson's 
own  life.  When  he  killed  Gabriel  Spencer  in  a  duel  in  1598,  he 
was  brought  to  trial,  and  only  escaped  the  death-sentence  by  plead- 
ing the  benefits  of  clergy.  Jeaffreson  found  the  record  of  this  in 
the  Middlesex  Sessions  Rolls  (cf.  Athenaeum,  March  6,  1886).  At 
the  head  of  the  indictment  was  printed  the  Clerk  of  the  Peace's 


156  Bartholomew  Fair 

memorandum  (in  Latin)  :  'He  confesses  the  indictment,  asks  for 
the  book,  reads  like  a  clerk,  is  marked  with  the  letter  T,  and  is 
delivered  according  to  the  statute,  etc' 

20.  7  egges  o'the  Spit.  Cf.  Ev.  Man  In,  3.  3,  where  Cob  says : 
*Nay,  soft  and  fair;  I  have  eggs  on  the  spit;  I  cannot  go  yet,  sir.' 
On  which  Wheatley  observes :  This  is  an  old  proverb,  meaning  to  be 
busy.'  He  cites  other  proverbs  relating  to  roasting  eggs:  'Set  a 
fool  to  roast  eggs  and  a  wise  man  to  eat  them';  'There  goes  some 
reason  to  the  roasting  of  eggs.'  In  As  Y.  Like  It,  3.  2.  38,  Touch- 
stone says:  'Truly,  thou  are  damned,  like  an  ill-roasted  egg  all  on 
one  side.'  A  century  later  the  same  phrase  was  used  by  Swift  in 
his  lournal  to  Stella  (April  2Z,  1713)  :  T  write  short  journals  now. 
I  have  eggs  on  the  spit.  This  night  the  Queen  has  signed  all 
warrants.     .     .     .' 

20.  9    Numps.    Corruption  of  'Humphrey'. 

20.  14  Marke.  An  early  English  money  of  account,  not  a  coin; 
a  weight  usually  of  eight  ounces  (two  thirds  of  a  troy  pound). 
Its  value  from  the  thirteenth  century  on  was  13s.  4d.  In  Middleton's 
Chaste  Maid  in  Cheapside,  2.  i,  the  same  amount  is  also  men- 
tioned as  the  price  of  a  wedding  license: 

Touch,   sen.    How,   a   license? 

Touch,  jun.     Cud's  foot,  she's  lost  else!     I  shall  miss  her  ever. 
Touch,  sen.     Nay,  sure  thou  shalt  not  miss  so  fair  a  mark 
For  thirteen  shillings  fourpence. 

20.  28  The  Cloister  later  became  one  .of  the  most  corrupt  places 
in  all  the  Fair.  Strype  describes  it  in  1720:  'A  passage  from  King 
Street  into  Smithfield,  through  a  fair  cloister,  well  paved  with  free- 
stone. On  both  sides  of  which  are  rows  of  shops,  most  taken  up  by 
semstresses  and  milliners.' — Cited  by  Wh.  Cun.  i.  114. 

21.  2  A  plague  o*this  box,  and  the  poxe  too.  Pox:  'As  used 
by  the  writers  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  the  word 
generally  means  smallpox.' — C.  D.  But  cf.  45.  19,  48.  36,  also  2  Hen. 
IV,  I.  2.  258,  273,  where  syphilis  is  plainly  referred  to.  The  word 
seems  to  have  been  used  in  both  senses. 

21.  10    veluet-custerd.    Cf.  T.  of  the  Shrew,  4.  3.  82 : 

It  is  a  paltry  cap, 
A  custard-coffin,  a  bauble,  a  silken  pie. 

This  was  one  of  the  popular  French  hoods,  round  and  somewhat 
sloping  like  the  crust  of  a  thick  pie  (the  old  custard-coffin).  For 
cuts  of  French  hoods,  see  Planche,  i.  298. 

21.  23  ff.  Dryden,  in  his  Essay  on  Dramatic  Poesy  (Works,  15. 
353)  >  comments  on  Jonson's  practice  of  describing  the  characters 
before  they  appear:    'Thus,  in  Bartholomew  Fair,  he  gives  you  the 


Notes  157 

pictures  of  Numps  and  Cokes,  and  in  this  [Epicoene]  those  of  Daw, 
Lafoole,  Morose,  and  the  Collegiate  Ladies;  all  which  you  hear 
described  before  you  see  them.  So  that  before  they  come  upon  the 
stage,  you  have  a  longing  expectation  of  them,  which  prepares  you 
to  receive  them  favorably;  and  when  they  are  there,  even  from 
their  first  appearance  you  are  so  far  acquainted  with  them,  that 
nothing  of  their  humour  is  lost  to  you.' 

21.  24  making  and  marring.  Puns  on  the  game  of  this  name 
were  very  common  among  the  dramatists.  It  was  forbidden  in  the 
second  and  third  year  of  Philip  and  Mary,  by  'An  Acte  to  make 
Voyde  dyvers  Lycences  of  Houses  wherein  unlawfull  Games  bee 
used.'  The  act  includes  'Bowlying  Tenyse  Dysyng  White  &  Blacke 
Making  &  Marrying',  etc. 

21.  32  if  bee  meete  but  a  Carman,  etc.  Cf.  2  Hen.  IV,  3.  2.  340, 
where  Falstaff  says  that  Shallow  sang  '.  .  .  those  tunes  to  the 
overscutched  huswives  that  he  heard  the  carmen  whistle,  and  sware 
they  were  his  fancies  or  his  good-nights.' 

21.  33  finde  bim  not  talke  to  keepe  bim  off.  Do  not  chance 
upon  a  subject  of  conversation  to  keep  him  away. 

21.  34  whistle  bim,  and  all  bis  tunes  ouer.  A  confusion  of 
figurative  and  literal  language;  whistle  him,  equivalent  to  'whistle 
his  tunes'. 

21.  35    a  bead  full  of  Bees.    Eccentric  whims ;  cf.  modern  slang. 

22.  4  manner  of  peece.  Kind  of  person.  Cf.  Tempest,  i.  2.  56 : 
'Thy  mother  was  a  piece  of  virtue.' 

22.  10  crosse  and  pile.  'An  old  game  with  money,  at  which 
the  chance  was  decided  according  as  the  coin  fell  with  that  side  up 
which  bore  the  cross,  or  the  other,  which  was  called  pile,  or  reverse : 
equivalent  to  the  "heads  and  tails"  of  the  present  time.'  Pile  has 
its  name  from  the  'small  pillar  of  iron  engraved  on  the  top  with 
the  image  to  be  given  to  the  under  side  of  coin  stamped  upon  it; 
hence,  the  under  side  or  reverse  of  the  coin  itself.' — C.  D. 

22.  29  Gib-cat.  Tom-cat.  Gib  is  a  contraction  of  Gilbert.  1760 
is  the  date  of  the  first  citation  in  N.  E.  D.  showing  change  to  the 
present  name.  Cf.  Dekker,  Works,  2.  146,  where  Mercury  speaks  of 
'a  Cobler  of  Poetrie  called  a  play-patcher  .  .  •.  condemned  with 
his  cat  to  be  duckt  three  times  in  the  Cucking-stole.' 

22.  30  Hodge.  'A  familiar  by-form  and  abbreviation  of  the  name 
Roger;  used  as  a  typical  name  for  the  English  agricultural  laborer 
rustic'.— AT.  E.  D. 

22.  30-36  Cf.  Overbury's  Characters:  A  Country  Gentleman: 
'Nothing  under  a  sub  poena  can  draw  him  to  London :  and  when 
he  is  there,  he  sticks  fast  upon  every  object,  casts  his  eyes  away 
upon  gazing  and  becomes  the  prey  of  every  cutpurse.' 


158  Bartholomew  Fair 

22.  31    would  name  you  all  the  Signes  ouer,  as  hee  went.    At 

a  time  when  only  a  small  proportion  of  the  population  could  read, 
the  old  picture-sign  was  indispensable.  For  a  great  deal  of  inter- 
esting material  see  Larwood  and  Hotten's  History  of  Signboards. 
Cuts  opposite  pp.  464,  488,  512,  show  the  appearance  of  London 
streets  when  even  as  late  as  1760  there  was  a  sign  in  front  of  each 
shop.  Their  great  variety  is  shown  by  the  names  of  the  chapters 
in  the  book  referred  to:  'Historic  and  Commemorative  Signs', 
'Heraldic  and  Emblematic',  'Animals  and  Monsters',  'Saints  and 
Martyrs',    'Trades  and  Professions',    'Humorous  and  Comic',  etc. 

22.  32  a  Parrat,  or  a  Monkey.  These  probably  were  in  the 
shops  or  shop-windows,  calculated  to  appeal  to  the  almost  insatiable 
appetite  of  the  people  for  marvels ;   cf.  note  on  monsters,  52.  12. 

22.  36  Bucklers-bury.  Originally  extending  from  the  east  end 
of  Cheapside  to  Charlotte  Row;  it  was  greatly  shortened  by  the 
construction  of  Queen  Victoria  Street.  It  seems  to  have  been  chiefly 
known  at  this  time  for  its  grocers  and  apothecaries.  It  was  the 
latter  who  sold  tobacco.  Wheatley  gives  the  following  quotation 
from  Westward  Ho,  1607 :  'Go  into  Bucklersbury  and  fetch  me  two 
ounces  of  preserved  melounes  (melons)  ;  look  there  be  no  tobacco 
taken  in  the  shop  when  he  weighs  it.' 

23.  5  allow  of  John's  reading  at  any  hand.  Approve  of  John's 
interpretation  on  any  condition. 

23.  8    and  all.    Also. 

23.  10  What,  the  mischiefe.  What  is  often  used  as  equivalent 
to  'why'  in  elliptical  expressions.  Cf.  Rom.  and  Juliet,  i.  5.  57: 
'What  dares  the  slave  come  hither — ' 

23.  14  your  fourteene  shillings  worth  of  small  ware.  Refer- 
ring to  the  box  containing  the  license. 

23.  20  Mary  gip.  'Probably  originated  from  By  Mary  Gipcy 
="by  St.  Mary  of  Egypt";  but  it  became  confused  with  this  word 
[i.  e.  gip,  in  sense  of  'get  out',  'go  long  with  you'].' — A''.  E.  D. 
It  is  in  the  latter  sense  that  Waspe  uses  the  quasi-oath  here. 

Mistris  French-hood.  The  French  hood  was  the  most  con- 
spicuous article  of  dress  that  Mrs.  Overdo  wore,  and  her  frequent 
allusions  later  prove  her  great  satisfaction  in  it.  The  different 
classes  in  London  were  not  entirely  distinguished  by  dress,  yet  the 
French  hood  was  in  general  a  sign  of  rank,  and  consequently  was 
affected  by  some  of  the  lower  classes.     Cf.  Elegy  61 : 

Commended  the  French  hood  and  scarlet  gown 
The  lady  may'ress  passed  in  through  the  town. 
Unto  the  Spittle  sermon. 

A  vivid  description  of  one  of  its  forms  is  given  by  Stubbes  (Anat. 
of  Abuses,  69)  :    'Than,  on  toppes  of  these  stately  turrets  (I  meane 


Notes  159 

their  goodly  heads  wherein  is  more  vanitie  than  true  Philosophic 
now  and  than)  stand  their  other  capitall  ornaments,  as  french  hood, 
hat,  cappe,  kercher,  and  suche  like ;  whereof  some  be  of  veluet,  some 
of  taffatie,  some  (but  few)  of  woll,  some  of  this  fashion,  some  of 
that,  and  some  of  this  color,  some  of  that,  according  to  the  variable 
fantasies  of  their  serpentine  minds.  And  to  such  excesse  is  it 
growen,  as  euery  artificers  wyfe  (almost)  wil  not  stick  to  goe  in 
her  hat  of  veluet  euerye  day,  euery  marchants  wyfe  and  meane 
Gentlewoman  in  her  french-hood,  and  euerye  poore  Cottagers  Daugh- 
ter in  her  taffatie  hat,  or  els  of  woll  at  least,  wel  lined  with  silk, 
veluet  or  taffatie.' 

24.2  VVhetston.  (George  Whetstone  1544?- 1587?)  An  author 
of  some  repute  in  his  day.  The  titles  of  several  of  his  works  sug- 
gest that  they  might  have  furnished  epigrammatic  and  sententious 
remarks.  The  following  may  have  been  referred  to  in  the  present 
allusion:  'A  Mirour  for  Magestrates  of  Cyties.  Representing  the 
Ordinaunces,  Policies,  and  Diligence  of  the  Noble  Emperour,  Alex- 
ander (surnamed)  Severus  to  suppresse  and  chastise  the  notorious 
Vices  noorished  in  Rome  by  the  superfluous  nomber  of  Dicing-houses, 
Tavarns,  and  common  Stewes :  suffred  and  cheerished  by  his  beast- 
lye  Predecessour,  Helyogabalus.'  A  new  title-page  introduced  'An 
addition  or  a  Touchstone  for  the  Time',  which  gave  in  detail  an 
account  of  the  disreputable  aspects  of  London. — D.  N.  B. 

24.  9  For  the  use  of  the  preterit  to  denote  the  concluded  past 
as  opposed  to  the  future,  see  Maetzner,  2.  86. 

24.  26  Cosset.  'A  pet  lamb,  especially  one  reared  by  hand.' — 
S.  D. 

24.  29  This  is  the  first  hint  that  Quarlous  and  Winwife  are 
about  to  devote  themselves  to  Grace.  It  will  be  noticed  that  Quar- 
lous is  the  quicker  of  the  two;  in  general  Winwife  is  content  to 
follow  his  lead. 

such  a  Cokes.  The  appropriateness  of  the  young  squire's  name 
is  made  evident  by  Ford's  Lover's  Melancholy,  4.  2 :  *A  kind  of 
cokes,  which  is,  as  the  learned  term  it,  an  ass,  a  puppy,  a  widgeon, 
a  dolt,  a  noddy.' — Cf.  Case  is  Altered,  5.  i : 

Wilt  thou  believe  him,  and  he  made  a  cokes. 
To  wait  on  such  an  antique  weathercock? 

24.  32     sober.     Modest. 

25.  4  it  selfe.  Yourself.  Usage  had  not  defined  at  this  time 
in  what  sense  it  was  to  be  employed.  Of  the  confusion  of  it  with 
other  pronouns,  Shakespeare  also  affords  many  examples. 

25.  16  it  will  bring  you  to  some  obscure  place  in  time.  There 
is  a  hint  of  foul  play  in  Quarlous'  warning,  and  Winwife  imme- 
diately follows  with  similarly  feigned  alarm.     Obscure  =1' gloomy'. 


i6o  Bartholomew  Fair 

25.  21    ouer  buy.    Pay  too  high  a  price  for. 

26.  7  with  his  Sir  Cranion-legs.  Gifford  says,  'Small,  spider- 
like  legs';  he  also  observes  that  Cranion  is  the  fairy  appellation 
for  a  fly,  and  cites  Drayton's  Nimphidia: 

Four  nimble  Gnats  the  Horses  were. 

Their  Harnasses  of  Gossamere, 
Flye  Cranion  her  Chariottere, 

Vpon  the  Coach-box  getting. 

26.  17  who  can  hold  that  will  away.  Them'  supplied  after 
hold  makes  the  meaning  clearer.  Gifford  observes  that  this  is  a 
proverb  of  some  age,  and  cites  from  Dunbar: 

And  Prudence  in  my  eir  says  ay, 
Quhy  wad  you  hold  that  will  away? 

26.  22    for  that  too.    Also. 
26.  25    stone.    Testicle. 

26.  27    Katerne-peare.     Catherine  pear,  a  small  and  early  variety. 

27.  2  Batt.  A  contraction  of  Bartholomew  through  the  inter- 
mediate form,  Bart. 

27.  3  fancy  to  the  Fayre.  Cf.  Much  Ado,  3.  2.  37:  'Unless  he 
have  a  fancy  to  this  foolery.' 

27.  4  none  goes  thither  of  any  quality  or  fashion.  This  sug- 
gests the  interesting  question.  How  was  the  Fair  regarded  in  Jon- 
son's  time?  The  extreme  Puritans,  as  Busy's  words  and  behavior 
indicate,  were  opposed  to  it.  Later,  in  1678,  the  London  corporation 
discussed  suppressing,  or  at  least  limiting,  it  on  moral  grounds.  On 
the  other  hand,  in  1663-8,  Pepys  notes  visiting  it  repeatedly,  accom- 
panied sometimes  by  his  wife,  and  again  by  some  of  the  nobility. 
Walford,  in  commenting  on  Prince  George's  visiting  the  Fair  with 
his  train  in  1740,  says:  'This  event  gave  fashion  to  the  fair,  and, 
indeed,  it  had  never  been  considered  derogatory  for  persons  in  the 
first  rank  and  fashion  to  partake  in  the  broad  humour  and  theatrical 
amusements  of  the  place.'  And  in  the  National  Review,  8.  438, 
there  is  the  statement :  'In  Charles  IFs  reign  Smithfield  saw  as  much 
good  company  as  Bath  under  the  despotism  of  Beau  Nash.'  (Is  this 
not,  however,  an  exaggeration?)  In  1614  the  Fair  had  neither  the 
great  popularity  that  it  shared  with  other  amusements  in  the  Res- 
toration, nor  did  it  experience  the  stern  hostility  that  it  encountered 
from  the  Puritans  just  before  the  Revolution.  Two  other  passages 
in  our  play  are  important  in  this  connection,  and  indicate  that  the 
Fair  at  this  time  was  hardly  Beau  Nash's  watering-place:  42.  8  ff., 
where  Quarlous  and  Winwife  show  that  they  feel  superior  to  the 
common  people  of  the  Fair,  and  express  annoyance  in  being 
approached  by  the  gingerbread  woman  and  hobbyhorse  man  as  likely 
customers;   and  57.  26,  where  Quarlous  observes  in  regard  to  Dame 


Notes  i6i 

Purecraft :  Shee  that  zvill  venture  her  selfe  into  the  Fayre  and  a 
pig  boxe,  will  admit  any  assault,  be  assured  of  that.  Prudes  and 
rigid  moralists  staid  away,  but  probably  not  so  strictly  as  from  the 
theatres.  The  middle  and  lower  classes  were  naturally  much  more 
conspicuous  in  number;  however,  Grace's  real  objection  to  the  Fair 
was  not  because  it  was  common,  but  because  she  must  visit  it  in 
the  company  of  Cokes.  For  a  modern  equivalent  the  visitors  of 
Bartholomew  Fair  might  well  be  compared  with  the  frequenters  of 
Coney  Island. 

27.  6  O  Lord,  Sir!  Used  elsewhere,  as  well,  when  conversing 
with  women.  In  All's  Well,  2.  2,  the  Clown  thus  constantly  pre- 
faces his  remarks  to  the  Countess,  who  finally  turns  the  exclama- 
tion to  ridicule. 

27.  12  and  directly  to  the  Fayre.  After  modal  verbs,  infini- 
tives of  motion  are  frequently  omitted.  Another  example  is  in 
1.  18,  must  to  the  Fayre. 

27.  24-26  The  parenthesis  contains  Littlewit's  invocation  to  the 
Muse.  Her  prompt  answer  follows  in  the  next  line.  Similarly  in 
Act  5  Busy  calls  on  his  divinity.  Zeal  (127.  17). 

27.  27  long  to  eate  of  a  Pigge,  sweet  Win,  i*the  Fayre. 
'This',  says  Symonds,  'like  the  wrath  of  Achilles  in  the  Iliad,  is 
the  motive-passion  of  the  comedy.' 

27.  29  Pye-Corner.  Pie  Corner,  the  Smithfield  end  of  Gilt- 
spur  Street.  Its  name  was  taken  from  an  inn  on  this  site,  the 
'Sign  of  the  Pie'  (the  bird).  This  was  just  at  the  entrance  of 
the  Fair  proper.  'Pye-Corner — noted  chiefly  for  Cooks'  shops,  and 
pigs  drest  there  during  Bartholomew  Fair.' — Strype,  3.  283  (cited 
by  Wheatley).     Cf.  Alchem.  1.  i: 

.     -     at  Pie-corner, 
Taking  your  meal  of  steam  in,  from  cooks'  stalls. 

28.  3  has  maintain'd  us  all  this  seuen  yeere.  Cf.  Dame  Pure- 
craft's  own  statement  as  to  the  profits  from  her  hypocrisy  (108. 
28  ff.). 

28.  9  beauteous  discipline.  'So  the  pretended  reformation  of 
the  church  was  at  this  time  affectedly  called  by  the  Puritans', 
remarks  Gifford,  who  had  as  little  sympathy  with  the  Puritans  as 
Jonson.     Cf.  Alchem.  3.  i : 

This  heat  of  his  may  turn  into  a  zeal, 
And  stand  up  for  the  beauteous  discipline. 

28.  21  The  very  common  belief  in  witchcraft  gave  opportunity 
for  all  kinds  of  quackery.  Thornbury  says:  'Every  noble  had  his 
astrologer,  much  more  every  monarch;  and  Elizabeth  consulted 
Dr.  Dee  who  saw  spirits.'     Cf.  his  chapter  on  Witchcraft,  2.  112  ff. 

28.  23    motion.     Instigation. 


i62  Bartholomew  Fair 

29.  13  In  many  ways  Busy  suggests  another  great  religious  hypo- 
crite, Moliere's  Tartuffe.  The  latter  is  also  a  glutton,  and  his 
admiring  worshipper,  Orgon,  'delights  to  see  him  eat  enough  for 
six'  (Tartuffe,  i.  2). 

29.  20    disease.     See  Glossary. 

29.  22  Bartholmew-pigge.  From  the  earliest  years  roast  pig 
was  peculiarly  associated  with  Bartholomew  Fair,  and  long  was  its 
chief  dainty.     Cf.  Works  of  D'Avenant  (fol.  1673),  290: 

Now  London's  Chief,  on  Sadie  new, 
Rides  into  Fare  of  Bartholemew: 
He  twirles  his  Chain,  and  looketh  big, 
As  if  to  fright  the  Head  of  Pig, 
That  gaping  lies  on  greasy  Stall, 
Till  Female  with  great  Belly  call. 

29.  34  a  spice  of  Idolatry.  Cf.  Acts  15.  29:  That  ye  abstain 
from  meats  offered  to  idols,'  etc. 

29.  36  high  Places.  Constantly  mentioned  in  the  Old  Testament; 
they  were  connected  with  the  worship  of  the  Canaanites  and  other 
heathen  tribes,  and  many  times  enticed  the  Children  of  Israel  into 
idolatry. 

30.  14  tents  of  the  wicked.  Cf.  Numbers  16.  26,  Psalms  84. 
10.  Busy  constantly  employs  Biblical  phrases,  yet  seldom  quotes 
directly.  This  was  in  keeping  with  his  ignorance;  Jonson  thus 
avoided  associating  the  Scriptures  with  him  in  ridicule. 

30.  32  Rabby  Busy.  Busy  is  jocosely  given  the  title  Rabbi  be- 
cause of  his  constant  use  of  Biblical  language  and  figures,  particu- 
larly of  the  Old  Testament;    cf.  31.  3  and  note. 

30.  35    comfort  to  the  weake.    Cf.  i  Thessalonians  5.  14. 

30.  36  I  will  eate  exceedingly.  Gifford  calls  attention  to  the 
similar  satire  in  The  Puritan  (1607),  3.  3: 

Nich.     Say  that  I  am  gone  to  a  fast. 

Sim.     To  a  fast?     Very  good. 

Nich.     Ay,  to  a  fast,  say,  with  master  Full-belly  the  minister. 

Sim.  Master  Full-belly?  An  honest  man:  he  feeds  the  flock  well,  for 
he's  an  excellent  feeder. 

Frail.  O  ay;  I  have  seen  him  eat  a  whole  pig,  and  afterward  fall  to  the 
pettitoes. 

prophesie.  'By  prophecy  .  .  .  the  Puritans  meant  those  ex- 
temporaneous rhapsodies  which  they  sometimes  poured  out  in  the 
heat  of  their  preaching.' — G. 

31.  3  loathing  of  ludaisme,  whereof  the  brethren  stand  taxed. 
Dr.  E.  N.  S.  Thompson  suggests  that  this  is  an  allusion  to  the 
Jewish  tendencies  in  derision  charged  against  the  Puritans  because 
of  their  constant  use  of  Biblical  language  and  illustration.  The 
custom  of  eating  a  gammon  of  bacon  at  Easter,  which  is  still  kept 


Notes  163 

up  in  many  parts  of  England,  was  founded  on  this,  viz.  to  shew 
their  abhorrence  to  Judaism  at  that  solemn  commemoration  of  our 
Lord's  resurrection.' — The  Customs  and  Manners  of  the  English; 
from  a  manuscript  in  the  library  of  Thomas  Astle,  cited  in  The 
Antiquarian  Repertory. 

31.  6    could  neuer  away.    Could  never  agree  with.     Cf.  2  Hen. 
IV,  3.  2.  213: 

Shal.     She  never  could  away  with  me. 

Fal.     Never,    never;     she    would    always    say    she    could    not    abide    Master 
Shallow. 


ACT  II. 

31.  15  Linceus.  Lynceus,  one  of  the  Argonauts,  famous  for  his 
keen  sight,  whence  the  proverb  :  d^vrepov  ^Xiireiv  rod  AvyK4(os.  Cf. 
Aristophanes,  Plutus,  210. 

peircing.  Similarly,  peirsh,  53.  5.  For  the  interchange  of  e  and 
i,  cf.  freinds,  122.  8,  and  feinds,  4,6.  16,  which,  according  to  N.E.D., 
are  variants  occurring  between  the  thirteenth  and  seventeenth  cen- 
turies. 

Epidaurian  serpent.    Cf.  Horace,  Sat.  1.  3.  26: 

.     .     .     in  amicorum  vitiis  tam  cernis  acutum 
Quam  aut  aquila  aut  serpens  Epidaurius. 

31.  17  Quorum.  'Originally  certain  justices  of  the  peace,  usually 
of  eminent  learning  or  ability,  whose  presence  was  necessary  to 
constitute  a  bench.' — N.E.D. 

31.  24  ff.  This  is  a  local  allusion  of  great  importance.  The 
worthy  worshipfull  man,  sometime  a  capitall  member  of  this  City, 
was  a  person  no  less  distinguished  than  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London, 
Sir  Thomas  Hayes ;  and  his  tour  of  personal  visitation  to  the  places 
where  the  laws  were  violated,  here  eulogized  by  Overdo,  he  himself 
describes  in  a  letter,  dated  8th  July,  1614,  to  the  Lord  Chamberlain, 
'detailing  the  steps  taken  by  him  since  his  appointment  for  reforming 
what  he  found  out  of  order  in  the  City.'  The  substance  of  the 
letter  is  given  in  the  Analytical  Index  to  Remembrancia,  358-359 : 
'He  had  informed  himself,  by  means  of  spies,  of  many  lewd  houses, 
and  had  gone  himself  disguised  to  divers  of  them,  and,  finding  these 
nurseries  of  villany,  had  punished  them  according  to  their  deserts, 
some  by  carting  and  whipping,  and  many  by  banishment.  Finding 
the  gaol  pestered  with  prisoners,  and  their  bane  to  take  root  and 


164  Bartholomew  Fair 

beginning  at  ale-houses,  ...  he  had  taken  an  exact  survey  of 
all  victualling  houses  and  ale-houses,  which  were  above  a  thousand, 
and  above  300  barrels  of  strong  beer  in  some  houses,  the  whole 
quantity  of  beer  in  victualling  houses  amounting  to  above  40,000 
barrels;  he  had  thought  it  high  time  to  abridge  their  number  and 
limit  them  by  bonds  as  to  the  quantity  of  beer  they  should  use, 
and  as  to  what  orders  they  should  observe,  whereby  the  price  of 
corn  and  malt  had  greatly  fallen.  The  Bakers  and  Brewers  had 
been  drawn  within  bounds,  so  that,  if  the  course  continued,  men 
might  have  what  they  paid  for,  viz.  weight  and  measure.' 

31.  27  Dog-killer,  in  this  moneth  of  August.  In  the  East 
there  are  certain  months  in  the  year  during  which  the  police 
authorities  pay  a  fixed  reward  for  every  dead  dog  brought  to  them, 
the  object  being  as  much  to  keep  down  their  numbers  as  to  guard 
against  madness,  and  with  this  view  a  larger  price  is  paid  for  bitches 
than  for  dogs.  The  practice  is  to  stun  them  with  a  heavy  stick, 
and  so  it  must  have  been  in  London,  according  to  Taylor,  the 
Water  Poet: 

And  last  the  dog-killer's  great  gains  abounds 

For  brayning  brawling  curs,   and  foisting  hounds.' 

— Cun. 

31.  29  goe  you.  Supply  'for',  just  as  in  take  you,  1.  26.  Cf. 
Abbott,  146 :  'Me,  thee,  him,  &c.  are  often  used,  in  virtue  of  their 
representing  the  old  dative,  where  we  should  use  for  me,  by  me,  etc' 
Cf.  Tempest,  i.  2.  244,  i  Hen.  IV,  i.  3.  98:   4.  3.  75. 

32.  9  would  all  men.  Would  that  all  men.  The  prevailing 
tendency  was  toward  brevity  in  speech;  and  this  is  so  marked  in 
Jonson  as  often  to  make  his  thought  obscure.  For  other  examples 
see  26.  10,  17;  35.  26;  57.  7,  21 ;  66.  21. 

32.  10  president.  Whalley's  emendation,  'precedent',  adopted 
also  by  Gifford,  is  not  without  support,  for  the  latter  word  was 
frequently  confused  with  president.  But  as  it  is  quite  possible  that 
president  may  have  been  intended  to  refer  to  the  Lord  Mayor,  the 
change  is  not  strictly  warranted. 

32.  12  a  foolish  Constable,  or  a  sleepy  Watchman.  The  pom- 
pous stupidity  of  the  watch,  which  had  become  almost  a  byword, 
has  already  been  referred  to.  We  have  an  illustration  of  it  later 
in  Haggise  and  Bristle. 

32.  17  an  honest  zealous  Pursiuant,  for  a  Seminary.  The 
Pursivant  was  a  state  messenger  employed  to  summon  papists  and 
offending  Puritans  before  the  spiritual  courts  (cf.  Neal,  i.  273). 
Seminary  was  a  name  familiarly  applied  to  one  who  had  studied 
abroad  at  a  Catholic  seminary;  nine  schools  of  this  kind,  located 
at  Rome,  Madrid,  Ghent,  etc.,  were  established  between   1569  and 


Notes  165 

1624  for  the  education  of  the  English  youth  (Neal,  i.  221).  The 
seminaries  were  forbidden  residence  in  England,  and  such  as  dis- 
obeyed were  the  objects  of  severe  persecution.  Cf.  Stow's  Annates, 
1217:  The  19  of  January  [1586],  Nicholas  Deuerox  was  condemned 
for  treason,  in  being  made  a  Seminary  priest  at  Reimes  in  France, 
since  the  feast  of  Saint  lohn  Baptist,  in  Anno  primo  of  hir  maiesties 
raigne,  and  in  remaining  here  after  the  terme  of  fortie  daies  after 
the  session  of  the  last  Parliament'.  Also  cf.  Harl.  Miscel.  3.  38 
(London,  1809). 

32.  20  by  your  leaue.  The  introduction  of  this  conventional 
phrase  into  a  soliloquy  may  seem  strange,  but  finds  its  justification 
in  that  the  Justice  is  speaking  out  of  character  and  addressing  the 
audience.  This  same  phrase  is  the  subject  of  a  quibble  in  the 
drunken  vapours,  92.  1-4. 

32.  25  courts  of  Pye-pouldres.  Such  courts  in  England  seem 
to  have  originated  with  the  fairs.  They  have  existed  at  all  the 
European  fairs  and  at  the  Norman,  Italian,  and  early  Roman 
markets.  Walford  traces  them  back  even  to  ancient  Greece,  and 
says:  'Demosthenes  makes  it  plain  that  all  causes  relating  to  the 
festival  of  Bacchus  were  heard  on  the  spot'.  The  jurisdiction  of 
this  court  is  well  described  in  the  Statutes  of  the  Realm:  1477-8, 
17°  Edw.  IV.  'Item,  Whereas  divers  Fairs  be  holden  and  kept  in 
this  Realm,  ...  to  every  of  the  same  Fairs  is  of  Right 
pertaining  a  Court  of  Py-powders,  to  minister  in  the  same  due 
Justice  in  this  Behalf;  in  which  Court  it  hath  been  all  times  accus- 
tomed, that  every  Person  coming  to  the  said  Fairs,  should  have 
lawful  Remedy  of  all  manner  of  Contracts,  Trespasses,  Covenants, 
Debts,  and  other  Deeds  made  or  done  within  any  of  the  same  Fairs, 
during  the  Time  of  the  same  Fairs,  and  within  the  Jurisdiction  of 
the  same.'  Cf.  Blackstone's  Commentaries,  3.  4.  i :  'The  lowest, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  most  expeditious,  court  of  justice  known 
to  the  law  of  England  .  .  .  It  is  a  court  of  record,  incident  to 
every  fair  and  market  ...  its  jurisdiction  extends  to  administer 
justice  for  all  commercial  injuries  done  in  that  very  fair  or  market, 
and  not  in  any  preceding  one.  So  that  the  injury  must  be  done, 
complained  of,  heard  and  determined,  within  the  compass  of  one 
and  the  same  day,  unless  the  fair  continues  longer.  The  court  hath 
cognizance  of  all  matters  of  contract  that  can  possibly  arise  within 
the  precinct  of  that  fair  or  market ;  and  the  plaintiff  must  make  oath 
that  the  cause  of  action  arose  there.'  Its  name  is  a  corruption  of 
the  French  pieds  poudreux  (dusty  feet),  as  is  shown  by  the  follow- 
ing from  the  Regiam  Majestatem,  1609,  cited  by  Walford:  'Gif 
ane  stranger  merchand  travelland  throw  the  Realme,  havand  na 
land,    nor    residence,    nor    Dwelling    within    the    schirefdome,    bot 


1 66  Bartholomew  Fair 

vaigand  fra  ane  place  to  ane  other,  quha  therefore  is  called  Pied 
Puldreaux,  or  dustifute.'  A  Court  of  Pie-powder  still  exists  at 
Stourbridge  Fair  (near  Cambridge),  at  the  fair,  of  Newcastle-upon- 
Tyne,  etc. 

32.  26  during  the  three  dayes  sometimes  to  sit  as  ludge.  The 
time  of  the  Fair  included  St.  Bartholomew's  Day,  the  afternoon 
preceding,  and  the  day  following,  August  23-25. 

32.  27  enormities.  Breaches  of  the  law.  Cf.  Addison,  Guardian, 
116:  There  are  many  little  enormities  in  the  world,  which  our 
preachers  would  be  very  glad  to  see  removed.' 

32.  28  this  the  cloud  that  hides  me.  An  allusion  to  Aeneas, 
enveloped  in  a  cloud  which  prevented  his  being  seen  as  he  entered 
Carthage  (cf.  Aeneid,  i.  412). 

32.  30  On  Junius  Brutus.  While  there  is  no  very  striking 
similarity  between  the  Roman  hero  and  Overdo,  the  comparison  is 
strictly  in  keeping.  To  the  Justice,  his  task  is  not  less  than  that 
of  saving  the  republic. 

32.  31  In  Brome's  The  Weeding  of  the  Covent-Garden,  i.  i 
(1658),  Cockbrayne,  a  Justice  of  the  Peace  and  the  Weeder  of  the 
Garden,  echoes  these  lines,  'And  so  as  my  Reverend  Ancestor  Justice 
Adam  Overdoe,  was  wont  to  say.  In  Heavens  name  and  the  Kings, 
and  for  the  good  of  the  Commonwealth  I  will  go  about  it.' 

33.  I  The  Fayre*s  pestelence  dead.  In  1593  and  in  1603,  no 
fair  was  held  because  of  the  plague  then  prevailing.  The  same 
happened  later  in  1625,  1665,  and  1666. 

33.  9  As  will  be  seen  from  the  last  clause  of  the  Proclamation 
by  City  of  London,  which  I  quote  in  part,  the  selling  of  impure 
breadstuffs  was  illegal.  A  similar  warning  is  to  be  found  in  the 
Crye  in  Sturbridge  Payer,  1548,  in  substance  repeated  each  year 
down  into  the  nineteenth  century. 

Proclamation  by  City  of  London. — 1604. 
The  Right  Hon.  the  Lord  Mayor  of  the  City  of  London,  and  his  right 
worshipful  Brethren  the  Aldermen  of  the  said  City,  streightly  charge  and  com- 
mand, on  the  behalf  of  our  Sovereign  Lord  the  King,  that  all  manner  of 
persons,  of  whatsoever  estate,  degree,  or  condition  they  be,  having  recourse 
to  this  fair,  keep  the  Peace  of  our  said  Sovereign  Lord  the  King.  That  no 
manner  of  persons  make  any  congregation,  conventicle,  or  affrays,  by  which  the 
same  peace  may  be  broken  or  disturbed,  upon  pain  of  imprisonment  and  fine, 
to  be  made  after  the  discretion  of  the  Lord  Mayor  and  Aldermen.  Also  that 
all  manner  of  Sellers  of  wine,  ale,  or  beer,  sell  by  measures  ensealed,  as  by 
gallon,  pottle,  quart  and  pint,  upon  pain  that  will  fall  thereof.  And  that  no 
person  sell  any  bread,  but  if  it  keep  the  assize,  and  that  it  be  good  and  whole- 
some for  man's  body,  upon  pain  that  will  fall  thereof. — Cited  by  Walford,  191. 

33.  12  lone.  Joan,  a  name  common  in  the  kitchen  and  cottage 
(Yonge's  Hist,  of  Christian  Names,  1.  113).  Cf.  L.  L.  Lost,  5.  2.  939; 
also  Epigram  42,  On  Giles  and  Joan. 


Notes  167 

33.  14  hobby-horses.  Thus  described  by  Strutt,  Sports  and 
Pastimes,  224:  'The  hobby-horse  which  seems  latterly  to  have  been 
almost  inseparable  from  the  morris-dance,  was  a  compound  figure; 
the  resemblance  of  the  head  and  tail  of  a  horse,  with  a  light  wooden 
frame  for  the  body,  was  attached  to  the  person  who  was  to  perform 
the  double  character,  covered  with  trappings  reaching  to  the  ground, 
so  as  to  conceal  the  feet  of  the  actor,  and  prevent  its  being  seen 
that  the  supposed  horse  had  none.  Thus  equipped,  he  was  to  prance 
about,  imitating  the  curvetings  and  motions  of  a  horse.' 

33.  15  I  pay  for  my  ground.  Stallage  and  piccage  (money  paid 
for  the  privilege  of  breaking  ground  for  the  erection  of  a  booth) 
were  the  sources  of  considerable  revenue  to  the  lord  of  the  fair. 

33.  16  for  all  thou  art  parcell-poet,  and  an  Inginer.  It  is 
commonly  agreed  that  in  the  character  of  Lanthorn  Leatherhead 
Jonson  had  Inigo  Jones  in  mind.  Fleay  notes  in  regard  to  this 
{Eng.  Drama,  i.  378)  :  'That  Lantern  Leatherhead  the  puppet-man 
is  Inigo  Jones  I  cannot  doubt.  Jones  had  prepared  the  show  part 
of  Daniel's  Tethys'  Festival,  1610,  June  5,  just  after  the  rupture 
between  Jones  and  Jonson,  who  worked  together  till  1609,  Feb.  2. 
He  is  "parcel  poet  and  an  inginer",  his  poetry  consisting  of  his 
doggerel  to  Coryat's  Crudities,  161 1,  June  7.  His  "velvet  jerkin" 
is  mentioned  [63.  27] ;  he  is  sought  for  "at  your  great  city  suppers", 
such  as  the  mask  of  the  Four  Seasons  (q.v.),  "can  set  out  a  mask", 
and  "engrosses  all"  [62,.  25],  (compare  Dominus  Do-all  in  The 
Expostulation)  ;  puts  down  Cokely  as  puppet-master  (compare 
The  Tale  of  a  Tub),  and  "baited  the  fellow  in  the  bear's  skin", 
the  "fighting  bear  of  last  year"  in  Love  Restored  (q.v.)  ;  he  suc- 
ceeds Captain  Pod  as  motion-master  [106.  8]  ;  is  the  mouth  of  the 
dumb  shows  [113.  29]  (compare  The  Expostulation  with  its  "lantern- 
lerry"  and  Tale  of  a  Tub  with  its  "lantern-paper",  which  allude 
to  the  very  name  in  this  play)  ;  presents  nothing  but  what  is  licensed 
by  authority  with  the  Master  of  the  Revels'  hand  to  it,  etc.,  etc. 
This  is  all  Jones.'  Jones  had  gone  to  Italy  in  the  summer  of  1613, 
and  was  still  absent  at  the  time  of  the  production  of  Bartholomew 
Fair.  As  Gifford  has  observed  (he  reluctantly  admits  that  there 
may  be  possibly  some  allusion  to  Jones),  there  is  nothing  bitter 
or  malignant  in  the  satire. 

parcell-poet.  'Petty  poet' ;  'poetaster' ;  also  used  by  Dekker  in 
Satiro-mastix :  'the  Parcell-Poets  shall  Sue  thy  wrangling  Muse.' 
The  same  term  occurs  in  Staple  of  News,  'Persons  of  the  Play* ; 
cf.  parcel-gilt,  2  Hen.  IV,  2.  i.  94;   parcel-guilty,  Poetaster,  5.  i. 

33.  17  and  make  a  ballad  of  thee.  This  way  of  revenging  one's 
self  is  also  suggested  in  i  Hen.  IV,  2.  2.  48:  Fal.  'An  I  have  not 
ballads  made  on  you  all  and  sung  to  filthy  tunes,  let  a  cup  of  sack 
be  my  poison.' 


1 68  Bartholomew  Fair 

33.  19  Arsedine.  'A  gold-coloured  alloy  of  copper  and  zinc, 
rolled  into  very  thin  leaf,  and  used  to  ornament  toys,  etc.;  "Dutch 
gold",    "Manheim  gold" '.—N.E.D. 

33.  22    charme.     'To  overcome  or  subdue'. — N.E.D. 

34.  I  What  doe  you  lacke.  'Merchandise  of  almost  every 
description  was  formerly  "carried  and  cried"  in  the  streets.  When 
shops  were  little  more  than  open  shanties,  the  apprentice's  cry  of 
"What  d'ye  lack  what  d'ye  lack  my  masters?"  was  often  accom- 
panied by  a  running  description  of  the  goods  on  sale,  together  with 
personal  remarks,  complimentary  or  otherwise,  to  likely  and  unlikely 
buyers'. — Tuer's  Old  London  Street  Cries. 

34.  10  wading.  Making  way  against  difficulties  or  embarrass- 
ments. 

34.  14  Ursula  (cf.  M.L.  derivation,  meaning  a  'she  bear')  is 
certainly  very  appropriate  for  the  huge,  waddling  pig-woman.  The 
name  seems  to  have  been  common,  particularly  among  servants. 
Cf.  T.  G.  of  Ver.  4.  4.  122;    Much  Ado,  3.  i.  4. 

who  would  weare  out  their  youth.  Their  was  often  used  instead 
of  his  when  the  antecedent  was  general.  Even  such  ungrammatical 
forms  as  the  following  were  not  uncommon:  'But  God  send  every 
one  their  heart's  desire!' — Much  Ado,  3.  4.  60. 

34.  17  what  Moone-calfe.  A  comma  after  what,  and  an  excla- 
mation point  at  the  end,  improve  the  punctuation.  What  is  an 
exclamation  of  impatience  (cf.  Franz,  84,  157),  as  in  /.  Caesar, 
2.  I.  I :  'What,  Lucius,  ho !'  Abbott,  p.  54,  suggests  that  some 
ellipsis  is  to  be  supplied,   'What  (is  the  matter)  ?' 

Moon-calf  was  a  name  commonly  applied  to  ugly  or  deformed 
persons ;  cf.  Tempest,  2.  2.  The  original  myth  regarding  the  moon- 
calf is  given  by  Pliny  in  his  Natural  History,  10.  64:  'Molas, 
de  quibus  ante  diximus,  gigni  putant,  ubi  mulier  non  ex  mare,  verum 
ex  semetipsa  tantum  conceperit',  etc. 

34.  24-25  The  comparison  is  between  the  zigzag  or  serpentine 
path  that  one  makes  as  he  walks,  swinging  a  watering-pot,  and 
that  left  by  Ursula  dripping  perspiration  as  she  waddled  along. 
Cf.  I  Hen.  IV,  2.  2.  116: 

Falstaff  sweats  to  death, 
And  lards  the  lean  earth  as  he  walks  along. 

34.  35    mornings  dew.    Cf.  modern    'mountain-dew'. 

35.  4  Changeling.  In  the  myth  that  fairies  often  change  a  new- 
born babe  in  its  cradle,  they  are  usually  charged  with  substituting 
an  infant  that  is  ugly  or  stupid.  This  term  of  revilement  was 
occasionally  equivalent  to  'idiot'. 

35.  7  Stote.  Weasel;  he  is  called  the  latter  name  in  43.  22. 
It  was  appropriate  because  of  his  leanness,  which  must  have  made 


Notes  169 

him  an  amusing  contrast  to  his  fat  mistress.  Stote  was  also  a 
term  of  contempt. 

35.  II  Punke,  Pinnace  and  Bawd.  The  usual  gradation  in 
infamy.  A  pinnace  was  a  light  vessel  built  for  speed,  generally 
employed  as  a  tender.  Hence  our  old  dramatists  constantly  used 
the  word  for  a  person  employed  in  love-messages,  a  go-between  in 
the  worst  sense,  and  only  differing  from  a  bawd  in  not  being 
stationary'. — G. 

35.  26    Tapster.     In   apposition   with   hee,   preceding  line. 

35.  28  I  will  ha'  made.  There  was  confusion  at  this  time  in 
the  use  of  'shall'  and  'will'.  Will  in  the  first  person  denoted  futurity 
as  well  as  purpose. 

35.  29  For  a  busy  booth  Ursula's  stock  of  tobacco  might  seem 
absurdly  small;  but  when  one  considers  the  price  (cf.  note  49.  29), 
and  also  the  fact  of  its  being  sold  by  pipefuls,  her  supply  is  not  so 
despicable.  Traill  (3.  572)  mentions  the  letting  of  pipes  by  land- 
ladies, for  which  they  charged  the  same  as  Ursula. 

all  my  whole.  Cf.  Mer.  of  Venice,  3.  4.  81 :  'I'll  tell  thee  all 
my  whole  device'. 

tabacco.  Fairholt,  Tobacco,  46:  'The  Spanish  name,  tabaco, 
given  to  it  by  Hernandez  ultimately  triumphed  over  all,  and  became 
(with  slight  variations)  that  universally  recognized  over  the  world. 
The  Spaniards  still  use  the  name  in  its  old  purity  of  spelling;  the 
Portuguese  and  Italians  add  an  additional  letter  and  term  it  tabacco; 
we  alter  the  first  vowel  improperly  and  call  it  tobacco'.  For  theories 
regarding  the  uncertain  origin  of  the  name,  see  CD.;  also  Fairholt, 
14  flf. 

35.  30  Coltsfoot.  The  great  popularity  of  tobacco  and  its  high 
price  gave  many  temptations  to  adulteration.  Cf.  Dr.  Barclay  of 
Edinburgh,  Nepenthes,  1614  (cited  by  Fairholt,  Tobacco,  71)  : 
'Avarice  and  greedines  of  gaine  have  moved  the  marchants  to 
apparell  some  European  plants  with  Indian  coats,  and  to  enstal  them 
in  shops  as  righteous  and  legitimate  tabacco  .  .  .  they  sophisti- 
cate and  farde  the  same  [Florida  tobacco]  in  sundrie  sortes,  with 
black  spice,  galanga,  aqua  vitae,  Spanish  wine,  anise  seedes,  oyle  of 
Spicke,  and  such  like'.  Also  Alchem.  i.  i,  where  Face  says  of 
Drugger : 

He  lets  me  have  good  tobacco,  and  he  does  not 
Sophisticate  it  with  sack-lees  or  oil, 
Nor  washes  it  in  muscadel  and  grains, 
Nor  buries  it  in  gravel,  under  ground, 
Wrapp'd  up  in  greasy  leather. 

35.  31  be  to  seek  in  smoak.  To  seek:  'At  a  loss;  without 
knowledge,  experience  or  resources;  helpless:  used  adjectively, 
usually  with  be'. — CD. 


lyo  Bartholomew  Fair 

35.  34  ff.  Devices  for  giving  small  measures  are  naturally  com- 
mon where  trade  is  transient,  as  at  a  three  days'  fair.  The  small 
measures  of  ale  are  satirized  in  a  description  of  Bartholomew  Fair 
in  1655,,  cited  by  D'Urfey,  Pills  to  Purge  Melancholy,  4.  169 : 

To  London  che  came,  hearing  of  the  Fame 
Of  a  Fair  they  call  Bartholomew.     .     .     . 

For  a  Penny  you  may  zee  a  fine  Puppet-play, 
And  for  Two-pence  a  rare  piece  of  Art; 

And  a  Penny  a  Cann,  I  dare  swear  a  Man, 
May  put  zix  of  'em  into  a  Quart. 

36.  5  mis-take  away  the  bottles.  Gifford  says:  This  practice 
was  so  common,  that  the  expression  became  a  cant  phrase  for  private 
stealing'.  Cf.  Masque  of  Augurs:  'To  fetch  bouge  of  court,  a  parcel 
of  invisible  bread  and  beer  for  the  players  (for  they  never  see  it)  ; 
or  to  mistake  six  torches  from  the  chandry,  and  give  them  one'. 
Also  Donne,  Sat.  5.  63-68. 

36.  17    O  Tempera!   O  mores!     Cf.  Cicero,  Catiline,  i.  2. 

36.  18  this  one  grieuance.  The  selling  of  ale  and  beer  accord- 
ing to  standard  measures  was  enjoined  upon  the  traders  of  the  Fair 
by  the  Mayor's  Annual  Proclamation  (cf.  note  on  33.  9). 

36.  26    Nephew.    Used  in  anticipation  of  Aunt,  1.  34. 

36.  29  Arthur  of  Bradley.  Long  a  proverbial  and  popular  char- 
acter; there  are  many  ballads  about  him,  chiefly  descriptive  of  his 
wedding.  See  Ebsworth's  Choyce  Drollery  (166-175,  397-402), 
Merry  Drollery  (312-317).  I  cite  the  first  two  stanzas  of  a  ballad 
on  this  character  contained  in  the  latter  work  (a  reprint  of  the 
Merry  Drollery,  1661)  : 

Saw  you  not  Pierce  the  Piper, 

His  Cheeks  as  big  as  a  Myter, 
Piping  among  the  Swains 

That's   down   in  yonder   Plains: 
Where  Tib  and  Tom  doth  tread  it. 

And  youths  the  hornpipe  lead  it, 
With  every  one  his  carriage 

To  go  to  yonder  Marriage, 
For  the  honour  of  Arthur  of  Bradly, 

O  brave  Arthur  of  Bradly,  O  fine  Arthur  of  Bradly, 

O  brave  Arthur  of  Bradly,  oh. 

Arthur  hath  gotten  a  Lass, 

A  bonnier  never  was; 
The  chiefest  youths  in  the  Parish 

Come  dancing  in  a  Mori-is, 
With  Country  Gambols  flouncing, 

Country  Wenches  trouncing, 
Dancing  with  mickle  pride, 

Every  man   his  wench  by  his  side, 
To  the  honour  of  Arthur,  etc. 


Notes  171 

There  is  nothing  in  this  or  in  the  other  versions  of  the  ballad  which 
I  have  seen,  to  indicate  that  Arthur  was  demented.  Ebsworth, 
however,  tells  of  a  modern  version  attributed  to  a  comic  singer  and 
actor,  Taylor,  at  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century  in  which 
'the  bridegroom  is  of  a  Petrucio  cast,  in  disposition  and  attire',  and 
thinks  this  had  some  traditional  fragment  of  Elizabethan  times  for 
its  origin.  The  dance  accompanying  this  ballad  was  wildly  merry 
and  frolicsome,  much  used  at  weddings.  Mooncalf's  /  ha'  bin  one 
o'your  little  disciples  means  that  he  had  joined  in  these  gaieties. 
Cf,  Robin  Hood's  Birth,  Breeding,  Valor  and  Marriage  (printed  in 
Dryden's  Miscellany,  1716;   included  in  Child's  Ballads,  3.  217)  : 

Before  we  came  to  it,  we  heard  a  strange  shouting, 

And  all  that  were  in  it  lookd  madly; 
For  some  were  a  bull-back,  some  dancing  a  morris, 

And  some  singing  Arthur-a-Bradly. 

36.  34  Overdo,  enthusiastic  at  the  success  of  his  disguise,  is 
attempting  to  talk  like  a  wild  young  gallant. 

37.  3  and  thou  drawest  on  holy  dales.  Analogous  to  'holiday 
attire'  ? 

37.  5  handsell.  'The  first  money  taken  by  a  trader  in  the  morn- 
ing, a  luck-penny'. — N.E.D. 

37.  7  Aunt.  'Gossip',  and  not  'bawd'  as  Whalley  and  Gifford 
think  it  means  here.  It  is  similarly  used  in  M.  N.  Dream,  2.  i.  51. 
Another  meaning  for  aunt  is  given  by  Nares,  but  as  it  is  not 
supported  by  the  N.E.D. ,  it  is  to  be  distrusted:  'Aunt  was  also  the 
customary  appellation  addressed  by  a  jester  or  fool,  to  a  female  of 
matronly  appearance;  as  uncle  was  to  a  man.  This  appears  in  the 
justice's  personification  of  a  fool,  Barth.  Fair,  act  II,  i,  where  he  by 
no  means  intends  to  provoke  the  old  lady,  nor  does  she  take  offence'. 

37.  16-17  The  route  from  Newgate  to  Tyburn  was  by  way  of 
Holborn ;  after  passing  Fetter  Lane  and  approaching  to  Farringdon 
Street,  it  mounted  Holborn  Hill,  which  disappeared  together  with 
the  name,  on  the  construction  of  Holborn  Viaduct  in  1869.  Cf. 
Dryden's  Limberman,  4.  i : 

Aldo.  Daughter  Pad,  you  are  welcome:  What,  you  have  performed  the  last 
Christian  office  to  your  keeper;  I  saw  you  follow  him  up  the  heavy  hill  to 
Tyburn. 

37.  22    A  cutpurse  of  the  sword!  the  boote,  and  the  feather. 

Cf.  the  rogue  of  to-day,  interested  in  horses  and  the  race-track, 
wearing  clothes  of  the  loudest  pattern,  and  flashing  a  big  diamond 
stud. 

37.  25  Turne-buU  streete.  Cf.  note  on  Turnbull,  'Persons  of 
the  Play',  p.  4. 


172  Bartholomew  Fair 

37.  27  cowes  vdders.  Mammon  {Ale hem.  2.  i),  telling  of  the 
luxuries  he  is  about  to  enjoy  as  he  comes  to  wealth,  mentions: 

.     .     .     the  swelling  unctuous  paps 
Of  a  fat  pregnant  sow,  newly  cut  off, 
Drest  with  an  exquisite,  and  poignant  sauce. 

38.  3  no  malice  in  these  fat  folkes.  This  at  once  suggests  the 
well  known  passage  in  /.  Caesar,  i.  2.  192 :  'Let  me  have  men  about 
me  that  are  fat',  etc. 

38.  5  vapours.  For  this  word,  which  occurs  often  in  our  play 
(sixty-nine  times)  and  with  various  shades  of  meaning,  we  have  a 
partial  definition  by  the  author  (90.  S.  D.)  :  Their  game  of  vapours 
which  is  nonsense.  Euery  man  to  oppose  the  last  man  that  spoke: 
whethe  it  concern  d  him  or  no.  In  this  sense  it  means :  A  hectoring, 
bullying  form  of  speech  where  there  is  constant  contradiction, 
intended  to  arouse  real  or  mock  quarrels  (cf.  38.  5,  43.  16,  90.  i). 
It  is  further  used,  generally  in  the  singular,  but  occasionally  in  the 
plural,  in  the  sense  of:  Humor,  disposition,  conceit,  fancy,  caprice, 
whim  (46.  2,  y6.  3,  98.  25);  and,  again:  111  feelings  or  disorder 
(56.  32).  There  is  also  a  transitive  verb  made  from  the  noun: 
To  hector  with,  bully  or  insult,  in  order  to  start  a  quarrel 
(46.  3,  5,  6,  7)  ;  To  humor  (41.  17).  Coleridge  observes  {Literary 
Remains,  2.  283)  :  Tt  is  not  often  that  old  Ben  condescends  to 
imitate  a  modern  author;  but  master  Dan.  Knockem  Jordan  and 
his  vapors  are  manifest  reflexes  of  Nym  and  Pistol'.  And  Gifford 
remarks :  'There  is  no  doubt  that  this  is  an  exact  copy  of  the  drunken 
conversation  among  the  bullies,  or  roarers,  of  those  times :  It  is, 
however,  so  inexpressibly  dull  that  it  were  to  be  wished  the  author 
had  been  content  with  a  shorter  specimen  of  it.  His  object  un- 
doubtedly was  to  inculcate  a  contempt  and  hatred  of  this  vile 
species  of  tavern  pleasantry;  and  he  probably  thought  with  Swift, 
when  he  was  drawing  up  his  Polite  Conversation,  that  this  could 
only  be  done  by  pressing  it  upon  the  hearer  to  satiety'.  The  follow- 
ing are  the  lines  in  which  the  word  occurs;  the  looseness  with 
which  the  noun  was  used — the  context  often  giving  no  clue  to  the 
precise  meaning — would  make  it  impracticable  to  classify  these  occur- 
rences according  to  significance:  Noun  sing.  41,  16,  18;  42.  35; 
46.  2  (twice)  ;  76.  3;  91.  28,  29,  30,  31,  32,  34;  92.  34;  93.  4,  6,  9,  I4, 
32;  98.  25,  26,  28;  99.  24;  100.  8;  117.  5,  6,  26.  Noun  plural, 
38.  5,  8,  26,  27;  39.  6,  10;  40.  2>3',  43.  13,  16,  18;  44-  17;  45-  34,  35; 
46.  8  (twice);  56.  32,  35;  57.  7;  89.  18;  90.  i,  21,  S.  D.  (twice); 
92.  15;  94.  6,  11;  96.  16;  98.  16;  99.  16;  116.  16,  28;  117.  20; 
122.  4,  5;  125.  23;  126.  26;  130.  10.  Verb  trans.  41.  17;  46.  3,  5» 
6,7. 


Notes  173 

38.  13  Dan.  Knockum:  lordane.  Jordan  seems  to  have  been  the 
name  by  which  Knockem  was  familiarly  known  among  his  associates, 
but  not  his  surname  as  the  punctuation  of  Whalley's  and  Gifford's 
texts  would  indicate.  The  word  commonly  denoted  the  chamber 
utensil  (see  puns,  38.  31,  96.  i)  ;  hence  when  applied  to  individuals,  a 
term  of  abuse  (cf.  Jordan,  N.E.D.).  For  a  contemporary's  sharp 
delineation  of  the  typical  Smithfield  horse-courser,  see  Overbury's 
Characters,   'An  arrant  Horse-courser'. 

38.  20  Shee  battens  with  it.  With  is  an  unusual  preposition  to 
employ  with  batten;  however,  cf .  Milton,  Lycidas,  29 :  'Battening 
our  flocks  zvith  the  fresh  dews  of  night' 

38.  22  after  game.  'A  second  game  played  in  order  to  reverse 
or  improve  the  issues  of  the  first.' — N.E.D. 

38.  28  Neuer  tuske,  nor  twirle  your  dibble.  CD.  defines  tusk 
(with  particular  mention  of  this  passage)  :  'To  gnash  the  teeth,  as 
a  boar',  and  N.E.D.  gives  as  a  conjecture  that  by  dibble  was  meant 
the  moustache.  These  I  regard  as  the  best  explanations.  Gifford, 
however,  suggests  that  dibble  may  mean  the  'spade  beard'  common 
at  this  time,  and  Cunningham  identifies  tusks  with  mustachios.  For 
an  excellent  description  and  cuts  of  the  styles  of  wearing  the  beard, 
see  'The  Ballad  of  the  Beard',  Percy  Soc.  Early  Eng.  Ballads, 
27.  121. 

38.  32     Lyon-chap.    Lion-chop  or  -jaw. 

39.  3  foundling  thee  i'the  bodie.  Foundring  has  the  not  unusual 
meaning  of  destroying  or  causing  to  collapse  utterly.  Of  its  special 
meaning  as  applied  to  horses  (and  incidentally  to  Ursula)  we  may 
gain  further  information  from  Markham's  Maister-Peece:  'Evill  and 
grosse  humours  .  .  .  doe  at  length  oppresse  and  almost  con- 
found the  whole  body,  absolutely  taking  away  from  him.  all  his 
strength,  insomuch  that  he  can  neither  goe  nor  bow  his  joynts,  nor 
being  laid,  is  able  to  rise  againe  .  .  .  [often]  it  proceedeth  from 
suffering  the  horse  to  drinke  too  much  in  his  travaile  being  very  hot, 
whereby  the  grease  being  suddenly  cooled,  it  doth  clap  about,  and 
suffocate  the  inward  parts.' 

39.  7  and  thy  grasse  scour'd.  Gifford  says  that  Knockem's 
conversation  'is  made  up  of  scraps  from  the  stable,  which  call  for 
no  explanation.'  Cunningham  does  not  dismiss  the  difficulties  so 
boldly,  but  acknowledges  he  can  make  no  sense  out  of  this  particular 
phrase  except  by  omitting  thy,  or  by  changing  it  to  'thy  guts  grass- 
scoured.'  No  such  emendation,  however,  is  needed;  grasse  is  for 
'grasso',  {&  horse-leech's  term,  thus  defined  by  Markham :  'Which  is 
any  manner  of  fat,  is  hot  and  moyst,  and  doth  ripen  and  soften.* 
'Scourings',  further  to  quote  Markham,  'are  those  wholesome, 
naturall  and  gentle  purging  medicines,  which  stirring  up  no  great 


174  Bartholomew  Fair 

Fluxe  of  humours,  doe  onely  keepe  the  body  cleane  from  such  evills 
as  would  arise  and  grow.' 

39.  8  wench.  'Not  always  in  a  bad  sense,  as  at  present,  but 
used  as  a  general  familiar  expression,  in  any  variation  of  tone 
between  tenderness  and  contempt.' — Schmidt. 

39.  15  token.  During  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  private  tokens  were 
issued  of  lead,  tin,  latten,  and  leather.  In  James  I's  reign  copper 
tokens  were  used,  but  the  monopoly  of  striking  them  was  conferred 
upon  individuals.  After  the  Civil  War  the  monopoly  lapsed,  and 
the  result  was  an  issue  of  copper  tokens  by  the  principal  tradesmen. 
In  1672  an  authorized  copper  coinage  of  farthings  and  half  pennies 
was  undertaken  and  the  tokens  fell  into  disuse.  —  Abridged  from 
Poole,  128-129. 

39.  16  Ha*  you  any  cornes  *i  your  feete,  and  toes?  As  Gifford 
observes,  Shirley  mentions  this  old  street  cry  in  the  Constant  Maid, 

2.  2. 

39.  17  Mouse-trap,  or  a  Tormentor  for  a  Flea.  Cf.  Taylor's 
Travels  of  Twelve-pence: 

I  could  name  more,  if  so  my  Muse  did  please. 
Of  Mowse  Traps,  and  tormentors  to  kill  Fleas. 

Heywood,  Rape  of  Lucrece,  Appendix :  'Buy  a  very  fine  Mouse-trap 
or  a  tormentor  for  your  Fleaes.'  A  flea-trap  is  also  mentioned  in 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Bonduca,  2.  3. 

39.  22  the  Ferret  and  the  Coney.  These  were  rogues'  terms  in 
common 'use.     Dekker's  Lanthorne  and  Candle  Light,  i6og  (Works, 

3.  228  ff.),  contains  a  chapter  on  'Ferreting.  The  Manner  of  vndoo- 
ing  Gentlemen  by  taking  vp  of  commodities',  in  which  occurs  the 
following:  'This  Ferret-Hunting  hath  his  Seasons  as  other  games 
haue,  and  is  onely  followed  at  such  a  time  of  yeare,  when  the  Gentry 
of  our  kingdome  by  riots,  hauing  chased  them-selues  out  of  the  faire 
reuenewes  and  large  possession  left  to  them  by  their  ancestors,  are 
forced  to  hide  their  heads  like  Conies,  in  little  Caues  and  in  vnfre- 
quented  places :  or  else  being  almost  windles,  by  running  after 
sensuall  pleasures  to  feircely,  they  are  glad  (for  keeping  them-selues 
in  breath  so  long  as  they  can)  to  fal  to  Ferret-hunting,  y*  is  to 
say,  to  take  vp  commodities.  .  .  .  The  Cittizen  that  sells  them 
[the  commodities]  is  the  Ferret.'  The  Coney  was  the  dupe,  the 
gull,  the  victim  of  the  cony-catcher. 

'Coney  was  often  spelt  "cunny",  being  pronounced  so  as  to  rhyme 
with  "money."  The  vowel  did  not  acquire  the  present  q  until  the 
nineteenth  century.' — N.E.D. 

39.  25  A  dozen  of  diuine  points,  etc.  Points  were  laces  with 
tags  at  the  end,  serving  for  buttons  to  hold  the  clothes  together. 
Cf.  I  Hen.  IV,  2.  4.  238:  •* 

Fal.        Their  points  being  broken, — 
Poins.    Down  fell  their  hose. 


Notes  175 

In  regard  to  garters,  cf.  Planche,  i.  199:  They  were,  in  the  time 
of  James  I,  small  sashes  of  silk,  tied  in  a  large  bow,  and  the  ends 
of  point  lace.'  In  regard  to  the  ballad  itself,  cf.  an  old  song,  which 
Cunningham  refers  to,  reprinted  by  the  Percy  Society,  Satirical 
Songs  and  Poems  on  Costume,  'A  dossen  of  Points,  sent  by  a 
Gentlewoman  to  her  Lover  for  a  Newe  Yeares  Gifte.'  The  con- 
clusion indicates  its  character: 

With  theise  twelve  vertuous  points, 

Se  thou  do  tye  thee  round, 
And  lyke  and  love  this  simple  gifte. 

Till  better  may  be  found. 
Yet  one  point  thou  dost  lacke, 

To  tye  thy  hose  before: 
Love  me  as  I  love  the,  and  shall, 
*  From  hence  for  evermore. 

Fairholt  (the  editgr)  comments  on  this  ballad:  '[It]  appears  to  be 
a  production  of  the  early  part  of  Elizabeth's  reign.  I  believe  it  to 
be  the  very  ballad  alluded  to  by  Ben  Jonson,  in  his  comedy  of 
Bartholomew  Fair' 

40.  14  The  dress  of  the  lawyer's  clerk,  as  well  as  of  the  serving 
man,  afforded  a  disguise  not  uncommon,  for  the  thief  frequenting 
fairs,  St.  Paul's,  etc. 

40.  24  flye  the  purse  to  a  marke.  To  fly  at  mark.  Generally 
said  of  a  Goshawk  when,  having  "put  in"  a  covey  of  partridges, 
she  takes  stand,  marking  the  spot  where  they  disappeared  from  view 
until  the  falconer  arrives  to  put  them  out  to  her.' — Harting.  The 
same  epression  is  used  in  the  Induction  of  the  Magnetic  Lady: 
'Fly  everything  you  see  to  the  mark  and  censure  it  freely.'  Dekker 
in  his  Lanthorne  and  Candle-Light  tells  how  terms  of  hunting  and 
falconry  were  similarly  used  by  rogues  in  their  cozenage. 

40.  27  your  friendship  (Masters)  is  not  now  to  beginne. 
That  is,  they  had  worked  together  before,  and  the  directions  of 
procedure  were  quite  unnecessary. 

40.  34  and  good  v^rhimsies.  Nearly  equivalent  to  'humors',  or 
'vapors'.     Cf.  Staple  of  News,  4.  i : 

Now  I  think  of  it, 
A  noble  whimsy's  come  into  my  brain: 
I'll  build  a  college. 

41.  4  Very  passionate,  Mistresse,  etc.  Cunningham  aptly  refers 
to  Lamb's  Dissertation  upon  Roast  Pig:  'Now  he  is  just  done.  To 
see  the  extreme  sensibility  of  that  tender  age,  he  hath  wept  out 
his  pretty  eyes — radiant  jellies — shooting  stars — '. 

41.  5  melancholy.  Cf.  Ev.  Man  In,  i.  3,  where  Knowell  charges 
Stephen  with  being  melancholy,  and  where  Stephen  later  expresses 


176  Bartholomew  Fair 

this  resolve :  'Why,  I  do  think  of  it ;  and  I  will  be  more  proud, 
and  melancholy,  and  gentleman-like  than  I  have  been,  He  ensure 
you.'  Wheatley  notes :  'One  of  the  fantastic  humours  of  the 
gallants  of  this  day  was  the  assumption  of  a  melancholy  and 
abstracted  air  .  ,  .  This  appearance  of  abstraction  was  thought 
to  be  a  sign  of  gentility,  and  in  one  of  the  spurious  Shakespearean 
plays,  Life  and  Death  of  Lord  Cromwell,  Act  III,  sc.  2,  almost  the 
same  words  are  used  as  are  put  into  Stephen's  mouth  in  1.  132 — "My 
nobility  is  wonderful  melancholy:  Is  it  not  most  gentlemanlike 
to  be  melancholy  f  ' 

^41.  12  strange  woman.  'The  scripture  phrase  for  an  immodest 
woman,  a  prostitute.  Indeed  this  acceptation  of  the  word  is  familiar 
to  many  languages.  It  is  found  in  the  Greek;  and  we  have  in 
Terence — pro  uxore  habere  hanc  perigrinam :  upon  which  Donatus 
remarks,  hoc  nomine  etiam  meretrices  nominabantur/ — G. 

41.  13    From  Ovid,  Metamorphoses,  15.  871. 

41.  16    and  store!     And  plenty. 

41.  21  Goshawke.  Employed  in  falconry,  being  flown  at  pheas- 
ant, mallard,  wild  goose,  hare,  and  rabbit;  often  very  fierce.  CI 
Dekker,  2  Honest  Whore,  3.  3:  'We  hear  of  two  or  three  new 
wenches  are  come  up  with  a  carrier,  and  your  old  goshawk  here  is 
flying  at  them.' 

42.  5    comfortable  bread.    'Spiced  gingerbread'. — G. 

42.  6    Ceres  selling  her  daughters  picture.     Proserpine's. 

42.  16  ff.  Apparently  Knockem  had  been  Edgworth's  teacher  in 
the  art  of  cutting  a  purse,  and  so  was  free  to  demand  a  large  part 
of  his  gains.  Greene  {Works,  10.  no  ff.)  gives  a  vivid  picture  of 
an  'old  Coole'  (cut-purse)  and  his  'young  toward  scholler'  at 
work. 

42.  24  roar'd  as  loud  as  Neptune.  As  loud  as  the  sea.  There 
is  a  play  here  on  the  word  roar'd,  which  is  used  in  the  previous  line 
in  the  sense  of  talking  in  a  swaggering,  bully-like  manner. 

42.  25    as  likely  an  inconuenience.    As  pleasing  an  absurdity. 

42.  31-32  A  similar  consciousness  of  superior  rank  or  character 
on  the  part  of  Winwife  and  Quarlous,  is  several  times  manifested. 
In  1.  8  Knockem  sees  this  and  charges  Winwife  with  being  proud. 
Cf.  16.  33,  42.  8,  loi.  9. 

43.  I  my  Punque,  cold,  Sir.  Not  fevered  by  passion,  that  is, 
considering  her  profession,  not  at  all. 

43.  4  the  bottle  is  almost  ofF.  Almost  gone,  or  drunk.  Cf. 
Drinke  it  off  (100.  23). 

43.  19-20  For  the  irregularity  in  the  conditional  sentence;  cf. 
Hamlet,  2.  2.  534-540: 

But  if  the  gods  themselves  did  see  her  then     .     .     . 
The  instant  burst  of  clamour  that  she  made,     .     .     . 
Would  have  made  milch  the  burning  eyes  of  heaven. 


Notes  177 

As  Abbott  remarks:  'The  consequent  does  not  always  answer  to 
the  antecedent  in  mood  or  tense.  Frequently  the  irregularity  can 
be  readily  explained  by  a  change  of  thought.' 

43*  25  would  my  Booth  ha*  broake.  Become  bankrupt,  a  play 
upon  credit  in  the  preceding  line. 

43.  30  and  be  curst  a  while.  Gifford  compares  this  with  'be 
naught  awhile'  {As  Y.  Like  It,  i.  i.  39),  equivalent  to  'the  mischief 
on  you',  and  quotes  several  passages  to  show  that  this  was  a 
proverbial  curse. 

43.  31  Body  o'the  Fayre.  A  curious  pseudo-oath,  formed  in 
imitation  of  'Body  of  Christ',  which  was  common  in  its  many 
corruptions;   cf.  46.  35. 

44.  4  'Gear  or  geer  used  to  be  one  of  the  hardest-worked  words 
in  the  English  language.  It  meant  matter  or  material  of  any  and 
every  sort  and  kind.  Smithfield  (more  particularly  Cow  Lane)  was 
the  recognized  place  for  coachmakers,  just  as  Long  Acre  now  is, 
with  respect  to  the  use  to  which  Ursula's  "geer"  was  to  be  turned.' 
— Cun.  [Curious  English,  this  of  Cunningham's !  Who  will  explain 
the  subtlety  of  his  last  clause?]  Coleridge  {Literary  Remains, 
2.  283)  observes:  'Good!  but  yet  it  falls  short  of  the  speech  of  a 
Mr.  Johnes,  M.P.,  in  the  Common  Council,  on  the  invasion  intended 
by  Buonaparte :  "Houses  plundered — then  burnt ; — sons  conscribed 
— wives  and  daughters  ravished,  &c,,  &c. —  But  as  for  you,  you 
luxurious  Aldermen !  with  your  fat  will  he  grease  the  wheels  of  his 
triumphal  chariot !" ' 

44.  12  fennel.  Fennel,  as  also  mint  and  parsley,  was  commonly 
eaten  with  fish  (see  Our  Eng.  Home,  70). 

44.  14  Is  shee  your  quagmire.  Owners  of  large  stables  com- 
monly have  a  bog  or  miry  spot  where  the  horses  may  stand  when 
they  are  lame,  etc. 

44.  25  Allusions  to  people  of  the  Low  Countries  in  the  Eliza- 
bethan dramatists  were  nearly  always  of  a  humorous  turn;  the 
epithets,  'butter-box',  'butter-bag',  'butter-mouth',  were  contemp- 
tuously given  to  the  Dutchmen  because  of  the  great  quantity  of 
butter  eaten  by  them  (cf.  'butter-box',  Grose's  Lexicon  Bala- 
tronicum). 

44.  31  leane  playhouse  poultry.  An  allusion  to  the  birds 
employed  in  the  cockfights  popular  at  this  time.  Boulton's  Amuse- 
ments of  Old  London,  i.  171-206,  well  describes  this  sport. 

44.  37  sweating  Sicknesse.  So  called  from  the  'deadely  burn- 
yng  sweate',  the  first  symptoms  of  the  fatal  plague  that  devastated 
England  several  times.  Stow  thus  describes  its  ravages  in  London 
and  Northern  England  in  1551 :  'Certaine  it  is  that  in  London  in 
few   daies  960.   gaue  vp  the  ghost    .    .    .    people  beeing  in  best 


178  Bartholomew  Fair 

'  i» 

health,  were  sodainely  taken,  and  dead  in  fower  and  twentie  houres, 
and  twelue,  or  lesse,  for  lacke  o£  skill  in  guiding  them  in  their 
sweat.' — Annates,  1023. 

45.  1-2  An  allusion  to  the  French  pox.  Equivalent  to  the  com- 
mon curse   'pox  on  you'   or   'plague  take  you'. 

Though  they  be  o'scarlet  refers  to  breech  and  not  to  patch. 
'Breeches'  (plural)  was  the  form  of  the  word  most  commonly  used, 
and  in  the  present  instance  the  pronoun  agrees  with  the  plural 
significance  of  its  antecedent,  and  not  with  its  singular  form,  in  the 
speech  of  the  uncultured  Ursula. 

45*  5  Cuckingstoole.  'An  instrument  of  punishment  formerly 
in  use  for  scolds,  disorderly  women,  fraudulent  tradespeople,  etc., 
consisting  of  a  chair  (sometimes  in  the  form  of  a  close-stool),  in 
which  the  offender  was  fastened  and  exposed  to  the  jeers  of  the 
bystanders,  or  conveyed  to  a  pond  or  river  and  ducked.' — N.E.D. 
Cf.  Brand,  3.  102-108.  The  etymologies  suggested  by  Gifford  (from 
'cuckquean')  and  by  Blount,  quoted  by  Brand  (from  'ducking-stool', 
or  perhaps  'choking-stool'),  are  not  supported  by  N.E.D.  It  seems 
to  be  made  up  of    'cuck',    to  avoid  excrement,  and    'stool'. 

45.  7  A  reference  to  the  pond  within  the  limits  of  the  Fair.  Of 
this  Stow  says :  'Horsepoole,  in  West  Smithfield,  was  some  time 
a  great  water;  and  because  the  inhabitants  in  that  part  of  the  city 
did  there  water  their  horses,  the  same  was  in  old  records  called 
Horsepoole;  it  is  now  [1598]  much  decayed,  the  springs  being 
stopped  up,  and  the  land  water  falling  into  the  small  bottom, 
remaining  inclosed,  with  brick,  is  called  Smithfield  pond.' — Survey 
of  London,  7. 

45.  9  hedge  bird.  'A  person  born,  brought  up,  or  accustomed 
to  loiter  under  a  hedge ;  a  vagrant ;  a  sturdy  vagabond ;  a  footpad.' 
—N.E.D. 

45.  14  Mrs.  Commodity.  Another  reference  to  the  method  of 
raising  money  by   'commodities' ;    cf.  10,  21  and  note. 

45.  19  pil'd,  and  double  pil'd.  Peeled,  stripped  of  hair,  bald 
(from  the  French  pox)  ;  cf.  bald  thrasher,  45.  25;  Meas.  for  Meas. 
I.  2.  35 ;  also  see  piled  in  Schmidt. 

45.  31     I'le  set  you  gone.    I'll  cause  you  to  be  gone. 

46.  17  I  ha*  lost  a  limb  in  the  seruice.  Language  of  the  army 
or  navy.  Ursula  undoubtedly  had  associated  with  rough  characters 
of  each.  The  diction  of  the  common  people  had  many,  even  techni- 
cal terms  of  the  sea,  as  is  to  be  seen  in  Tempest,  T.  Night,  and  other 
plays.     Cf.  57.  24  and  note. 

46.  27  race-Bawd.  An  unusual  combination,  apparently  sug- 
gested by  race-horse ;   ironical  as  applied  to  the  fat  Ursula. 

46.  30  Sometimes  the  cutpurses  started  street  fights  or  feigned 
them  among  themselves  in  order  to  secure  their    'purchases'    in  the 


Notes  179 

confusion.  Greene  in  'A  Dispvtation  between  a  Hee  Conny-catcher 
and  a  Shee  Conny-catcher'  {Works,  10.  215),  describes  how  a 
farmer  was  thus  relieved  of  a  purse  containing  £40;  in  10.  180,  he 
describes  a  similar  trick  by  which  a  countryman  coming  to  the  rescue 
of  a  rogue,  lost  a  costly  gold  chain  and  purse,  stolen  by  the  man 
he  sought  to  help. 

46.  32  Edgworth  was  an  accurate  observer  and  had  a  shrewd 
wit;  this  was  true  of  most  of  the  cutpurses.  The  gallants  were 
spendthrifts  who  passed  much  of  their  time  devising  how  to  raise 
money.  Quarlous  and  Winwife,  though  not  penniless,  felt  the  need 
of  seeking  wealthy  matches. 

47.  I  Mallanders.  'A  kind  of  dry  scab,  growing  in  the  form 
of  lines  or  strekes  over  thwart  the  very  bought  or  inward  bent  of 
the  knee,  and  hath  hard  hairs  with  stubborne  rootes,  like  swines 
bristles,  which  corrupted  and  cankereth  the  flesh.' — Markham, 
Maister-Peece^ 

scratches.  'Long,  scabby  &  dry  chappes,  or  rifts,  growing  right 
up  and  downe,  and  overthwart  on  the  hinder  leggs  .  .  .  the 
Schartches  are  above  the  fet-lock.' — Ihid. 

crowne  scabbe.  'A  stinking  and  filthy  scabbe,  breeding  round 
about  the  cornets  of  the  hoofe,  and  is  a  cankerous  and  paineful 
sorrance,' — Ihid. 

47.  2  quitter  bone.  'A  hard  round  swelling  upon  the  Cronet 
of  the  hoofe,  betwixt  the  heele  and  the  quarter,  and  groweth  most 
commonly  on  the  inside  of  the  foote.' — Ihid. 

47*  3-5  The  disease  alluded  to,  French  pox  or  syphilis,  was 
extremely  common  at  this  time.  The  Hospitall  is  of  course  St. 
Bartholomew's,  on  the  south  side  of  Smithfield  and  overlooking  the 
Fair.  Traill  (3.  564)  quotes  a  statement  of  William  Clowes,  a 
surgeon  at  the  Hospital,  1579,  which  is  important  in  this  connection : 
Tt  hapneth  in  the  house  of  Saint  Bartholomew  very  seldome  but 
that  among  every  twentye  diseased  persons  that  are  taken  in,  fifteene 
of  them  have  the  pocks.' 

47.  7  Windgall.  'The  Wind-gal  is  a  little  blebbe  or  bladderful 
of  corrupt  jelly,  &  like  the  white  of  an  egge,  growing  on  each  side 
of  the  Master  sinew  of  the  leg,  hard  above  the  pastorne.' — Markham. 
Among  several  remedies  suggested  by  the  same  author,  the  following 
is  very  similar  to  Knockem's :  'Take  an  ounce  of  white  waxe,  an 
ounce  of  Rozen,  two  ounces  of  raw  hony,  three  ounces  of  Swines 
grease  .  .  .  rubbe  them  into  the  Wind-gall,  by  holding  a  hot 
barre  of  iron  against  the  oyntment,  and  it  wil  take  the  Wind-gal 
away.'  Jonson  possessed  an  astonishing  amount  of  odd  and  curious 
knowledge — here  it  is  acquaintance  with  veterinary  science  as  well 
as  with  rogues,  their  tricks,  haunts,  and  language — indeed  surprising 
with  all  his  classical  and  philosophical  learning. 


i8o  Bartholomew  Fair 

Knockem,  as  a  Smithfield  horse-courser,  would  know  all  of  the 
common  diseases  of  horses.  Dekker  (Lanthorne  and  Candle  Light, 
chap.  lo)  tells  how  those  of  this  profession  bought  old  and  diseased 
y.^ horses  at  a  low  price,  and  then  by  a  little  doctoring  concealed  their 
/  ailments,  and  sold  the  horses  as  sound.  In  the  same  chapter  a 
I  general  characterization  of  the  horse-courser  occurs,  which  well 
V  applies  to  Knockem :  'You  shall  finde  euery  Horse-courser  for  the 
most  part  to  bee  in  quality  a  coozner,  by  profession  a  knaue,  by  his 
cunning  a  Varlet,  in  fayres  a  Hagling  Chapman,  in  the  Citty  a 
Cogging  dissembler,  and  in  Smith-field  a  common  forsworne 
Villaine.' 
ij^  47.  13  In  the  character  of  Overdo  and  in  the  ridicule  to  which 
he  is  subjected  throughout  the  play,  the  satire  is  directed  against 
the  city  magistrates  as  well  as  the  Puritans.  Overdo  is  not  a 
Puritan  by  profession,  but  in  his  impracticable  scheme  for  purifying 
the  Fair,  in  his  abhorrence  of  tobacco,  and,  most  of  all,  in  his 
important  and  affected  manner,  he  showed  the  characteristics  that 
in  those  days  would  commonly  class  him  with  the  Puritans.  The 
city  magistrates,  often  for  the  sake  of  public  decency,  placed  many 
small  restraints  on  the  stage ;  and  the  dramatists  in  return,  as  far 
as  they  dared,  satirized  the  magistrates.  Overdo  is  apprehensive 
lest  Edgworth,  whom  he  plans  to  rescue,  will  be  affected  by  the 
taint  of  poetry,  after  which  there  will  be  no  hope  of  him  as  a 
commonwealth's  man.  This,  of  course,  is  ridicule.  Jonson  treats 
the  same  theme,  but  without  even  this  thin  disguise,  in  Ev.  Man  In, 
5,  where  Justice  Clement  says:  They  [poets]  are  not  born  every 
year,  as  an  alderman.  There  goes  more  to  the  making  of  a  good 
poet,  than  a  sheriff.  ...  I  will  do  more  reverence  to  him,  when 
I  meet  him,  than  I  will  to  the  mayor  out  of  this  year.'  Cf.  31.  24  ff. 
and  note ;  also  Thompson,  The  Controversy  between  the  Puritans 
and  the  Stage,  120,  206,  208. 

Overdo's  attempted  reformation  is  marked  by  cant  at  the  very 
beginning.  He  saw  Edgworth  for  the  first  time  but  a  few  minutes 
before,  yet  already  his  few  hairs  are  grown  gray  in  his  care  of  the 
young  man. 

tabacco.  Paul  Hentzner,  a  German  tutor  who  visited  England 
in  1598,  describes  the  smoking  at  the  playhouses  and  elsewhere: 
'At  these  spectacles,  and  everywhere  else,  the  English  are  constantly 
smoking  tobacco.  .  .  .  they  have  pipes  .  .  .  made  of  clay, 
into  the  farther  end  of  which  they  put  the  herb,  so  dry  that  it  may 
be  rubbed  into  powder;  and  putting  fire  to  it,  they  draw  the  smoke 
into  their  mouths,  which  they  puff  out  again  through  their  nostrils, 
like  funnels,  along  with  plenty  of  phlegm  and  defluxion  from  the 
head.' — Hentzner' s  Itinerarium,  cited  by  Morley,  Mem.  137. 


Notes 

47.  21  As  Greene  says  (10.  103),  'Where  so  euer  there  is  any 
extraordinarie  resort  of  people,  there  the  Nippe  and  the  Foist  [the 
cutpurse  and  the  pickpocket]  haue  fittest  oportunity  to  shewe  their 
iughng  agillitie.'     Cf.  40.  22,  65.  12  ff. 

47.  25    The  Justice  quotes  from  ICnockem's  Vapours'  (cf.  38.  i). 

48.  4    a  kinne  to  the  Cokeses.    Cf.  note  on  24.  29. 

48.  12  Alligarta.  From  the  Spanish  el  or  al  lagarto,  the  lizard. 
For  the  various  steps  by  which  it  became  corrupted  to  alligator,  see 
N.E.D. 

48.  18  say,  Numps,  is  a  witch.  As  already  has  been  observed 
(cf.  note  on  28.  21),  this  was  a  time  when  England  thoroughly 
believed  in  witchcraft  (cf.  Traill,  3.  325  ff.,  4.  85  ff.). 

48.  26  ff.  This  sounds  very  much  like  King  James'  Counterblast 
to  Tobacco  (1604)  :  'Surely  smoke  becomes  a  kitchen  far  better 
than  a  dining  chamber,  and  yet  it  makes  a  kitchen  also  oftentimes 
in  the  inward  parts  of  men,  soiling  and  infecting  them  with  an 
unctious  and  oily  kind  of  soot,  as  hath  been  found  in  some  great 
Tobacco  takers,  that  after  their  death  were  opened.'  It  would  be 
interesting  to  know  how  King  James  felt  as  he  saw  the  play,  and 
heard  this  serio-comic  denouncer  of  tobacco  utter  some  of  his  own 
arguments  published  anonymously  ten  years  before.  They  could 
hardly  escape  sharing  in  the  ridicule  in  which  the  character  who 
utters  them  becomes  involved. 

48.  32  the  hole  in  the  nose  .  .  .  the  third  nostrill.  Malig- 
nant syphilis,  unchecked,  not  unfrequently  attacks  the  nose,  destroy- 
ing the  bridge  and  even  eating  away  the  whole  organ.  From 
Overdo's  allusion,  it  seems  that  the  smokers  sometimes  gloried  in 
such  disfigurement,  as  enabling  them  to  do  special  tricks  in  blowing 
out  smoke  from  the  nostrils.  An  accomplishment,  considered  most 
essential  for  the  Jacobean  gallant,  was  that  he  should  be  an  artistic 
smoker.  There  were  professors  who  made  it  their  special  business 
to  teach  the  ambitious  to  blow  the  smoke  out  in  balls,  rings,  etc. 
(cf.  Thornbury,  i.  46,  Ev.  Man  Out,  3.  i). 

49.  S.  D.  Hee  picketh  his  purse.  'While  we  were  at  this  show 
[in  Bartholomew  Fair]  one  of  our  company,  Tobias  Salander, 
Doctor  of  Physic,  had  his  pocket  picked  of  his  purse,  with  nine 
crowns  (ecus  du  soleil),  which,  without  doubt,  was  so  cleverly  taken 
from  him  by  an  Englishman  who  always  kept  very  close  to  him, 
that  the  Doctor  did  not  in  the  least  perceive  it.' — Hentzner's 
Itincrarium,  1598;    cited  by  Rye,  108. 

49.  8  basket-hilt,  and  an  old  Fox  in't.  A  basket-hilt  was 
formed  of  narrow  plates  of  steel,  following  the  shape  of  the  hand. 
Fox  was  frequently  used  for  sword  by  contemporary  dramatists,  as 
N.E.D.  conjectures,  originally  because  of  'the  figure  of  a  wolf, 
on  certain  sword-blades,  being  mistaken  for  a  fox.' 


i82  Bartholomew  Fair 

49.  10  As  there  was  always  a  chance  that  the  cutpurse  might 
be  suspected  and  searched,  it  was  very  common  that  he  should  thus 
relieve  himself  and  be  ready  for  other  work.  Women  were  recog- 
nized as  especially  good  accomplices.  To  quote  Greene  once  more 
(Works,  10.  227)  :  'Suppose  you  are  good  at  the  lift,  who  be  more 
cunning  then  we  women  in  that  we  are  more  trusted,  for  they  little 
suspect  vs,  and  we  haue  as  close  conueyance  as  you  men :  though 
you  haue  Cloakes,  we  haue  skirts  of  gownes,  handbaskets,  the 
crownes  of  our  hattes,  our  plackardes,  and  for  a  need,  false  bagges 
vnder  our  smockes,  where'en  we  can  conuey  more  closely  then  you.' 

49.  13  what  speake  I.  The  use  of  what  for  'why'  (=  quid) 
was  very  common.  Many  examples  are  to  be  found  in  Shakespeare. 
Cf.  23.  10  and  note. 

49.  24  Streights,  or  the  Bermuda's.  'Cant-names  then  given 
to  the  places  frequented  by  bullies,  knights  of  the  post,  and  fencing 
masters.' — W.  'These  Streights  consisted  of  a  nest  of  obscure  courts, 
alleys,  and  avenues,  running  between  the  bottom  of  St.  Martin's 
Lane,  Half-moon,  and  Chandos-street.  In  Justice  Overdo's  time, 
they  were  the  receptacles  of  fraudulent  debtors,  thieves  and  prosti- 
tutes. Their  present  frequenters,  it  is  to  be  presumed,  are  of  a 
more  reputable  description.  At  a  subsequent  period,  this  cluster  of 
avenues  exchanged  the  old  name  of  Bermudas  for  that  of  Carihhee 
Islands,  which  the  learned  professors  of  the  district  corrupted,  by 
a  happy  allusion  to  the  arts  cultivated  there,  into  Cribhee  Islands, 
theij  present  appellation.' — G.     Cf.  Underwoods,  30: 

But  these  men  ever  want:    their  very  trade 

Is  borrowing;    that  but  stopt,  they  do  invade 

All  as  their  prize,  turn  pirates  here  at  land, 

Have  their  Bermudas,  and  their  Streights  i'the  Strand. 

49.  25  the  quarreling  lesson  is  read.  The  rapier  which  had 
commonly  displaced  the  broad  sword  came  from  Spain,  but  the  pro- 
fessors who  taught  its  use  were  chiefly  from  Italy.  Though  fencing 
schools  were  popular,  they  had  a  bad  name  at  this  time,  partly 
because  of  the  fatal  use  that  knaves  and  tricksters  made  of  the 
skill  gained  at  them.  In  Alcheni.  3.  2,  Kastril  seeks  the  Doctor  for 
instruction  to  'manage  a  quarrel  upon  fit  terms'.  Cf.  As  Y.  Like  It, 
5.  4,  where  the  same  is  also  satirized. 

49.  29  The  length  and  the  dangers  attending  the  voyages  to  the 
New  World,  as  well  as  the  poor  means  there  of  cultivating  tobacco, 
made  its  price  extremely  high.  Ursula  lets  out  pipes  at  three 
pence  a  pipe  full  (35.  28),  and  Traill  (3.  572)  says  it  sold  'for 
3  s.  an  ounce — at  least  18  s.  of  our  money.'  To  gain  an  idea  of 
what  these  prices  meant,  one  should  compare  the  laborer's  weekly 


Notes  183 

wages;  a  skilled  workman  would  average  scarcely  six  shillings,  and 
an  ordinary  woman  would  receive  about  two  shillings,  six  pence 
(cf.  Traill,  3.  546). 

50.  9  mouth  of  a  pecke.  To  Dr.  Murray,  editor  of  the  New 
English  Dictionary,  I  am  indebted  for  the  following  note  in  reply 
to  a  personal  inquiry:  'We  know  no  sense  of  peck  except  that  of 
the  measure  of  capacity,  and  the  vessel  in  which  it  is  measured,  with 
derived  uses  such  as  a  "peck  of  trouble",  the  proverbial  "peck  of 
dirt"  that  everyone  must  eat  before  he  dies,  etc.  Our  understand- 
ing of  the  passage  is  that  the  bawling  fellow  was  said  to  have  a 
mouth  of  the  capacity  of  a  peck,  or  which,  when  open,  might  be 
compared  to  a  peck's  mouth.  .  .  .  Possibly  the  whole  clause 
means  "seized,  affected,  or  afflicted  with  a  mouth  of  the  capacity 
of  a  peck",  or  "with  a  peck's  mouth",  this  being  regarded  or 
spoken  of  as  a  disease  or  seizure.  I  should  take  it  as  a  purely 
nonce  figure  of  speech,  which  Waspe  threw  out  in  his  angry  invec- 
tive— The  London  costermonger  is  amazingly  eloquent  in  abusive 
language;  so  is  the  cab-driver  or  omnibus-conductor;  you  might 
hear  from  them  in  a  day  fifty  striking  figures  of  speech,  which  you 
would  search  for  in  vain  in  all  your  apparatus  criticus/ 

50.  20  malt-horse.  'A  horse  employed  in  grinding  malt  by 
working  a  treadmill  or  winch;  hence,  a  slow,  heavy  horse.' — CD. 
It  is  used  by  Shakespeare  as  an  expression  of  contempt. 

50.  22-23     Elliptic  for    'Much  good  may  it  do  you',    etc. 

51.  9     sorrow  wi'not  keepe  it.     Check  or  restrain  it. 

51.  19  In  the  beating  of  Overdo,  Jonson  is  resorting  to  an 
expedient  for  pleasing  the  people,  common  in  Aristophanes,  Plautus, 
and  Terence;  with  them  a  beating  is  always  funny.  We  find  the 
same  in  the  pre-Elizabethan  drama;  cf.  Com.  of  Errors,  2.  2.  23, 
4.  4.  18,  etc.;    Woodbridge,  The  Drama,  56. 

51.  24  The  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew's  Day  occurred  August 
24,  1572,  when  in  Paris  alone  from  2,000  to  10,000  people  perished. 

51.  26  Patrico.  The  orator  and  priest  of  strolling  bands  of 
beggars  and  gipsies,  as  the  Patrico  himself  explains  in  The  Gipsies 
Metamorphosed: 

Stay    .    .    . 
For  me,  that  am  bringer 
Of  bounds  to  the  border. 
The  rule  and  recorder, 
And  mouth  of  your  order, 
As  priest  of  the  game, 
And  prelate  of  the  same. 


184  Bartholomew  Fair 


ACT  III. 

52.  I  ff.  Nowhere  is  Whit's  nationality  mentioned,  but  on  com- 
paring his  brogue  with  that  found  in  The  Irish  Masque  a  close 
similarity  is  evident;  we  can  safely  assert  that  Whit  is  Irish. 
There  are  further  two  characters  in  this  act  who  speak  in  dialect — 
the  Northern  Clothier,  and  Puppy,  a  Western  man.  Elsewhere,  as 
well,  Jonson  has  attempted  to  imitate  the  speech  of  certain  country- 
men and  foreigners :  e.  g.  Yorkshire,  in  the  Sad  Shepherd;  Welsh- 
English,  in  the  Honor  of  Wales;  Dutch-English,  in  the  Masque  of 
Augurs.  These  are  crude  efforts  at  writing  in  dialect  and  brogue, 
but  they  are  not  inferior  to  Shakespeare's.  The  aim,  apparently, 
was  not  accurately  to  reproduce  the  speech  of  an  Irishman  or 
Welshman,  but  rather  to  emphasize  the  fact  that  the  speakers  were 
foreigners  from  Ireland  or  Wales.  Their  brogue  and  manners,  as 
regards  local  color,  might  well  be  compared  with  the  non-Italian 
atmosphere  of  most  of  the  scenes  laid  in  Rome,  Venice,  etc. 

Whit's  brogue  is  reducible  to  a  small  number  of  very  simple  rules. 
The  vowels  are  natural,  with  a  few  exceptions:  Creesh  (Christ), 
meaneteeme  (meantime),  neet  cap  (night-cap).  Sh,  the  most  com- 
mon consonantal  change,  is  for  s,  also  for  soft  c,  soft  g  and  /; 
d,  and  occasionally  t,  is  for  th;  p  and  v  are  for  zu.  Cf.  Macmorris' 
speech  in  Hen.  V,  3,  also  Bryan's  in  Dekker's  2  Honest  Whore.  Cf. 
also  Professor  Beers'  'Dialect  on  the  Old  Stage'  in  his  Points  at 
Issue,  N.  Y.,  1904.  Regarding  Whit  he  remarks:  'I  was  unable 
to  decide  whether  he  is  an  Irishman,  a  Jew,  or  an  Amarugian.  He 
says  shentlemens  like  a  modern  old-clothes  man,  vil  and  vould  like 
a  Dickens  cockney,  or  a  German  trying  to  pronounce  w;  in  other 
respects  he  talks  like  Shakespeare's  and  Jonson's  Irishmen.'  (Pro- 
fessor Beers  has  told  me  since,  however,  that  he  has  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  Whit  was  undoubtedly  intended  for  an  Irishman; 
Elizabethan  dramatists  did  not  have  a  special  speech  for  Jews.) 
Strict  observance  of  the  peculiarities  of  dialect  is  not  common  on 
our  stage  to-day,  and  could  hardly  be  expected  in  Jonson's  time. 
To  quote  further  from  the  essay  already  cited:  'The  fact  doubtless 
is  that  the  old  dramatists'  acquaintance  with  the  dialect  was  super- 
ficial. They  noted  a  few  of  its  more  obvious  peculiarities  and  left 
the  rest  to  the  actor.  Indeed,  the  notation  of  vowel  sounds  needs  a 
phonetic  alphabet  or  palaeotype,  an  instrument  of  precision  far 
beyond  the  reach  of  popular  writers,  especially  in  the  rudimentary 
stage  of  dialect  writing  in  the  seventeenth  century'. 

52.  5    brabblesh.    Brabbles  or  brawls. 

Is  Whit  a  spy  or  intelligencer,  paid  for  the  number  of  people 
whose  arrest  he  can  effect? 


Notes  185 

52.  9  you  told  mee  a  pudding.  Tliis  is  a  play  on  Haggise's 
name,  and  shows  from  what  it  was  probably  derived.  A  haggis  is  a 
kind  of  pudding,  thus  described  by  N.E.D.:  'A  dish  consisting  of 
the  heart,  lungs,  and  liver  of  a  sheep,  calf,  etc.  .  .  .  minced 
with  suet  and  oatmeal,  seasoned  with  salt,  pepper,  onions,  etc.,  and 
boiled  like  a  large  sausage  in  the  mouth  of  the  animal.  ...  a 
popular  English  dish  in  English  cookery  down  to  the  beginning  of 
the  eighteenth  century.'  If  we  might  apply  as  well  the  figurative 
meaning,  'An  indolent,  do-nothing  fellow',  the  sense  in  which  Carlyle 
used  the  word  in  1822,  according  to  N.E.D.,  its  appropriateness  as 
a  Jacobean  watchman's  name  would  be  perfect;  1.  12  leads  us  to 
think  that  the  word  may  have  had  also  this  significance  in  Jonson's 
time. 

52.  12  the  monsters.  Since  early  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  reign, 
when  explorers  kept  bringing  tales  of  strange  people  and  animals 
from  America,  Africa  and  Asia,  the  English  people  had  showed  a 
remarkable  passion  for  monsters.  Shakespeare  satirizes  this  in  the 
Tempest,  2.  2,  where  Trinculo  says  of  Caliban : 

A  strange  fish!  Were  I  in  England  now,  as  once  I  was,  and  had  but  this 
fish  painted,  not  a  holiday  fool  there  but  would  give  a  piece  of  silver:  there 
would  this  monster  make  a  man;  any  strange  beast  there  makes  a  man:  when 
they  will  not  give  a  doit  to  relieve  a  lame  beggar,  they  will  lay  out  ten  to 
see  a  dead  Indian. 

Among  the  monsters  at  the  Fair,  elsewhere  mentioned  in  our  play, 
were  the  great  hog  (74.  22),  the  eagle,  the  black  wolf,  the  bull 
with  the  five  legs,  the  dogs  that  danced  the  morris,  and  the  hare 
that  played  on  the  tabor  (118.  4-7).  Cf.  Ev.  Man  Out,  5.  4: 
'I  would  have  you  do  this  now;  flay  me  your  dog  presently  (but 
in  any  case  keep  the  head),  and  stuff  his  skin  well  with  straw,  as 
you  see  these  dead  monsters  at  Bartholomew  fair.'    Alchem.  5.  i : 

Love.     What  should  my  knave  advance. 
To  draw  this  company?     he  hung  out  no  banners 
Of  a  strange  calf  with  five  legs  to  be  seen, 
Or  a  huge  lobster  with  six   claws. 

Morley  in  his  Memoirs  of  Bartholomew  Fair  devotes  an  entire 
chapter  to    'monsters'. 

52.  20  Haggise  in  his  pun  comes  near  to  suggesting  how  the 
name,  watch,  happened  to  be  given  to  the  timepiece;  it  is  from 
'watch,  hour  of  the  night,  period  of  time  occupied  by  soldiers,  etc. 
on  duty'  (Johnson's  Univ.  Cyc).  Thornbury  (i.  51)  says  that 
watches  came  to  England  first  from  Germany  in  1584.  They  were 
still  uncommon  in  Jonson's  time.  The  possession  and  ostentatious 
wearing  of  one  is  part  of  the  grandeur  that  Malvolio  anticipates 
as  he  aspires  to  Olivia's  hand  (T.  Night,  2.  5.  66). 


1 86  Bartholomew  Fair 

52.  29  lack  dat  shtrikes  him.  'A  figure  made  in  old  public 
clocks  to  strike  the  bell  on  the  outside;  of  the  same  kind  as  those 
formerly  at  St.  Dunstan's  church  in  Fleet-street.' — Nares'  Gloss. 
under  'Jack  of  the  Clock'.     Cf.  Richard  III,  4.  2.  113-118. 

53.  8  wrought  neet  cap.  Planche  tells  of  the  richly  embroidered 
nightcaps  of  silk  or  velvet,  of  this  time,  and  says  they  were  worn 
during  the  day  by  elderly  men  and  invalids.  Cf.  1.  14 ;  also,  Dekker's 
I  Holiest  Whore,  3.  i,  where  Candido,  who  is  about  to  go  out,  says : 

Fetch  me  a  night-cap:    for  I'll  gird  it  close, 
As  if  my  health  were  queasy. 

54.  10  As  usual,  Quarlous  is  the  bolder  and  more  decided  of  the 
two.  His  get  you  gone,  Rascall,  is  much  more  virile  than  Winwife's 
Ther's  twelpence,  pray  thee  wilt  thou  he  gone. 

54.  32    Babies,  male  or  female.    See  note  on  'Babies,'  Prologue. 

54.  34  Smithfield,  or  the  field  of  Smiths.  This  is  to  be  con- 
sidered only  as  evidence  of  Busy's  inspired  ignorance.  For  the  origin 
of  the  name,  Smith-fit[d,  cf.  Stow's  Survey,  where  Fitzstephen's 
Descriptio  nohilissimae  civitatis  Londoniae  (12th  cent.)  is  cited: 
'Tliere  is,  without  one  of  the  gates,  immediately  in  the  suburb,  a 
certain  smooth  field  in  name  and  in  reality.  There  every  Friday, 
unless  it  be  one  of  the  more  solemn  festivals,  is  a  noted  show  of 
well-bred  horses  exposed  for  sale.'  The  name  'smooth  field'  was 
particularly  fitting  because  of  the  contrast  to  the  rough  fens  adjoining. 

Groue  of  Hobbihorses.  Allusion  to  the  groves,  closely  connected 
with  idol-worship,  many  times  denounced  and  inveighed  against  in 
the  Old  Testament. 

55.  5  Cf.  Odyssey,  12.  166  ff.  Busy's  allusion  is  not  entirely  cor- 
rect, but  the  inexactness  is  not  surprising  in  view  of  his  contempt  for 
the  learning  of  antiquity. 

55.  10  peele.  Peel:  'A  kind  of  wooden  shovel  with  a  broad 
blade  and  long  handle,  used  by  bakers  to  put  bread  into  or  take  it 
out  of  the  oven.' — CD. 

55.  18  This  manner  of  decoration  was  practiced  also  in  the  homes. 
Lemnius,  a  Dutch  physician  who  visited  England  in  1560,  remarks: 
'The  better  to  qualefie  and  mitigate  this  heate  [in  'soultery  hoate 
weather',  or  'dogge-dayes'],  it  shalbe  very  good  to  sprinckle  on  the 
pavements  and  coole  the  floores  of  our  houses  or  chambers  with 
springing  water,  and  then  to  strew  them  over  with  sedge,  and  to 
trimme  up  our  parlours  with  green  boughes,  fresh  herbes  or  vine 
leaves;  which  thing  although  in  the  Low  Country  it  be  usually 
frequented,  yet  no  nation  more  decently,  more  trimmely,  nor  more 
sightly  than  they  doe  in  Englande.' — Rye,  80. 


Notes  187 

55.  22  a  Sringhalt,  the  Maryhinchco.  'The  string-halt,  of  some 
cald  the  Mary-hinchco,  is  a  suddaine  twitching  up  of  the  Horses 
hinder  legges,  as  if  he  did  tread  upon  needles,  and  were  not  able 
to  endure  his  feete  upon  the  ground.' — Markham. 

55.  25  de  cleane  side  o'de  table-clot.  A  strong  inducement  at  a 
public  eating-house,  when  forks  were  not  yet  common,  and  table- 
cloths were  used  to  wipe  greasy  fingers  and  faces  (cf.  Our  Eng. 
Home,  37-47). 

55.  26  phatersh  of  Dame  Annesh  Cleare.  Somewhat  north  from 
Holywell  is  one  other  well  curved  square  with  stone,  and  is  called 
Dame  Annis  the  clear.' — Stow's  Survey,  7. 

55.  27  The  sale,  century  after  century,  of  certain  sorts  of  cooked 
meat  seems  to  have  had  its  origin  in  the  fact  that  when  the  Fair  was 
established,  as  there  was  but  one  public  eating-house  in  London,  it 
was  necessary  to  make  some  provision  for  strangers. 

55.  30  fire  o*  luniper  and  Rosemary  branches.  N.E.D.  says 
that  juniper  wood  was  often  burned  to  purify  the  air.  Rosemary 
having  a  similar  fragrance,  would  likely  be  thought  to  possess  that 
power  as  well.  Knockem  wishes  to  assure  Busy  and  his  party  that 
the  pigs  had  been  fastidiously  cooked.  For  an  incident  showing  how 
the  pig-booths  might  be  most  disgusting,  see  Morley's  Mem.  346. 

56.  3  as  in  Lubberland.  With  especial  reference  to  this  passage, 
Nares  remarks  that  there  was  an  old  proverbial  saying  about  'Lubber- 
land,  where  the  pigs  run  about  ready  roasted  and  cry  "Come  eat 
me"*;  and  further  that  this  land  was  'properly  called  Lubberland 
because  lubbers  only  would  believe  in  its  wonders.' 

56.  8-12  'This  passage  alludes  to  a  similar  place  in  the  Plutus  of 
Aristophanes,  where  the  sychophant  scents  the  good  dinner  preparing 
within  : 

'Ej'Sov  5'  i<TTlv  (3  fiiapiardTU) 

TToXi)  XPVI^^  TefiaCbv  koI  Kpe(av  wttttjix.^vcjv. 

m  t>d  05  &D  &5  &5  65.  [11.  893-895] 

"Therefore  be  bold,  huh,  huh,  huh,  follow  the  scent."  Lepide  Aris- 
tophanes in  pluto  inducit  sycophantam  olfacientem  sacrificiorum 
nidorem,  qui  totum  senarium  naribus  absolvit :  says  Vossius  on  this 
passage.' — Upton. 

56.  16  Come,  Win,  as  good  winny  here.  Whalley  says  on  the 
authority  of  Lye,  the  editor  of  Junius'  Etymological  Dictionary,  that 
'Winny  is  the  same  as  the  old  word  wonne'  (OE.  wunian,  dwell, 
remain). 

56.  25-26  Cf .  note  on  the  Banbury  Puritans,  14.  24 ;  0'  the  sincere 
stud  is  more  of  Knockem's  horsy  talk,  and  means  'of  the  unmixed 
breed.' 


1 88  Bartholomew  Fair 

56.  27  Apparently  Whit's  charge  was  to  induce  people  to  drink 
heavily  (cf.  57.  20-22).  As  he  was  by  profession  a  bawd,  he  would 
also  be  on  the  alert  for  victims. 

57.  I  what  ail  they.  This  is  a  strange  construction  but  by  no 
means  peculiar  to  our  author.  N.E.D.  says  that  this  intransitive  use 
of  ail  came  from  'mistaking  the  personal  object  which  in  early  times 
usually  preceded*  the  impersonal  verb,  for  the  subject'  It  thus 
meant:  'To  have  something  the  matter  with  one.'  Cf.  All's  Well, 
2.  4.  6: 

If  she  be  very  well,  what  does  she  ail. 
That  she's  not  very  well? 

57.  5  The  Puritans  were  always  out  of  style ;  they  were  satirized 
for  having  'Religion  in  their  garments,  and  their  hair  cut  shorter 
than  their  eyebrows  !'  {Ev.  Man  Out,  Induction).  Instead  of  a  small 
printed  ruffe,  fashionable  dress  at  this  time  required  one  so  wide 
that  it  often  had  to  be  supported  by  wires,  such  as  Stubbes  denounced 
in  the  following  {Anat.  of  Abuses,  51)  :  'They  haue  great  and 
monsterous  ruffes,  made  either  of  Cambrick,  holland,  lawn,  or  els 
of  some  other  the  finest  cloth  that  can  be  got  for  money,  whereof 
some  be  a  quarter  of  a  yard  deep,  yea,  some  more,  very  few  lesse.' 

57.  7-13  This  is  addressed  to  Ursula  and  Mooncalf.  The  supply- 
ing of   'they  are'   before  good  guests  makes  the  meaning  plain. 

57.  8  set  a  couple  o*  pigs  o'the  board.  The  original  order  was 
for  one  pig  (56.  25,  28).  Knockem,  by  his  eloquence  in  persuading 
Ursula  of  the  generous  appetites  of  Busy's  flock  gains  added  con- 
fidence, himself. 

57.  II  a  stone-puritane,  with  a  sorrell  head.  More  horse-talk 
referring  to  Busy.  Stone-puritane  is  in  imitation  of  'stone-horse*, 
an  obsolete  or  provincial  term  for  stallion. 

57.  21  and  the  sisters  drinke.  Gifford  thinks  that  a  word  or 
two  was  lost  between  and  and  the,  perhaps  'see  that'  It  seems 
better  to  consider  the  passage  obscure  because  of  the  characteristic 
brevity  of  the  author,  and  the  bad  punctuation  of  the  printer.  The 
only  emendation  needed  is  the  omission  of  the  comma  after  brethren, 
and  the  insertion  of  a  semicolon  after  sisters. 

57.  24  to  lay  aboard.  A  nautical  term  meaning  'To  place  one's 
own  ship  along  side  of  for  the  purpose  of  fighting.' — N.E.D.  Cf. 
2  Hen.  VI,  4.  I.  25 :  *I  lost  mine  eyes  in  laying  the  prize  aboard.' 
The  many  sea  terms  to  be  found  in  Shakespeare  and  Jonson  (cf. 
46.  17,  98.  23)  show  how  the  people  of  London  w6re  influenced  by 
the  nation's  leading  industry;  they  acquired  not  a  little  of  the 
language  of  the  sailors  who  were  always  to  be  seen  in  the  poorer 
taverns  and  about  the  streets. 


Notes  189 

57.  26-27  This  is  a  decided  reflection  upon  the  character  of  the 
Fair:    cf.  27.  4  and  note. 

57.  29  o'the  widdowes  Hundred.  The  Hundred  was  the  early 
subdivision  of  a  county  which  had  its  own  court.  It  is  here  used 
figuratively,  =  'class'. 

58.  17    peepe  out  o*the  taile  of.    Result  from. 

58.  24  i*  their  dish,  i'faith,  at  night  for  fruit.  With  the  sweet- 
meats, the  last  course. 

58.  25  had  thought  ...  to  haue  reuealed.  Cf.  18.  Z7  and 
note. 

58.  28  Much  of  the  humor  of  the  Justice's  character  consists  in 
the  tremendous  importance  he  arrogates  to  himself  and  to  his  office. 

59.  5  scabb'd  sheep.  Troubled  with  the  mange.  The  shepherd 
carried  tar  to  anoint  the  sores. 

59.  7  The  aldermen's  cloaks  were  of  scarlet,  worn  on  state  occa- 
sions as  a  badge  of  office.  They  would  be  seen  on  Bartholomew 
Day  at  the  Fair  as  the  mob  wrestled  before  the  Lord  Mayor. 

59.  10  Vt  paruis  componere  magna  solebam.  From  Virgil, 
Eel.  I.  23.     Vt  is  substituted  for  sic. 

59.  22  intend  that.  Fix  the  mind  on  that.  Cf.  L.  intendere 
oculos,  animum,  euros,  etc. 

60.  15  a  paire  o'smithes  to  wake  you  i*the  morning.  Was  this 
a  device  to  answer  the  purpose  of  the  modern  alarm  clock?  Perhaps 
it  was  similar  to  the  lack  dat  shtrikes  him  (cf.  52.  29  and  note). 

60.  31-32  An  allusion  to  the  North  American  Indians  and  the 
conscienceless  trades  that  the  whites  made  with  them. 

61.  15  you  are  fine.  At  least  in  this  play,  fine  is  a  much  over- 
worked word  (cf.  12.  29;  22.  7,  8;  62.  4;  69.  2;  89.  17;  116.  16; 
118.  8). 

61.  32  How  melancholi'  Mistresse  Grace  is  yonder.  Cf.  note 
on  melancholy,  41.  5. 

61.  33  let's  goe  enter  our  selues  in  Grace,  with  her.  A  play 
on  her  name,  in  Grace,  being  an  obsolete  phrase,  equivalent  to  in 
favor. 

62.  5     More  Bartholomew  babies. 

62.  10  Bobchin.  Found  also  in  78.  12,  but  an  unusual  word, 
perhaps  coined  by  our  author.  It  is  made  up  of  Bob,  a  distortion  of 
'hobby'  +  chin  =  'kin,'  the  diminutive.  Hence  its  applicability  to  the 
hobby-horse  man  in  78.  12,  and  here  to  Cokes. 

62.  12  aboue  board.  'In  open  sight  ...  A  figurative  expres- 
sion, borrowed  from  gamesters,  who,  when  they  put  their  hands 
under  the  table,  are  changing  their  cards.' — Johnson's  Diet. 

62.  14-16  fiddles.  Used  interchangeably  with  violins.  A  delicate 
young  noise  is  equivalent  to.  An  exquisitely  fine  company  of  young 
fiddlers. 


190  Bartholomew  Fair 

62.  17  When  speaking  of  masques  at  weddings  Jonson  was  on 
very  familiar  ground.  At  this  time  he  had  produced  at  least  eighteen 
masques,  barriers,  and  entertainments,  some  of  them  for  the  King. 

63.  14  Coriat.  Thomas  Coryate  (i577?-i6i7)  studied  at  dkford 
but  left  without  taking  a  degree,  and  then  led  an  aimless  life  for 
some  years;  on  the  accession  of  James  I,  he  became  a  hanger-on 
of  the  court,  finding  a  livelihood  as  a  privileged  buffoon.  He  had 
an  extraordinary  memory,  and  in  wit  was  a  match  for  any  of  the 
courtiers.  In  1608  he  went  to  Venice  and  came  back  through  Zurich, 
Basle  and  Strasburg,  traveling,  according  to  his  own  reckoning, 
1975  miles;  much  of  which  distance  he  covered  on  foot.  He  then 
set  to  work  to  write  an  account  of  his  travels,  and  in  the  difficulty 
of  finding  a  publisher  besought  friends  and  even  the  merest  acquaint- 
ances for  commendatory  verses,  of  which  he^  secured  an  immense 
number;  these  Jonson  undertook  to  edit  for  him.  The  whole 
appeared  under  the  name  of  Coryats  Crudities  (D.N.B.). 

Cokeley.  The  master  of  a  motion  or  puppet-show.' — W.  Cf. 
Epigram  129:  'Thou  dost  out-zany  Cokely,  Pod;  nay,  Gue:  and 
thine  own  Cory  at  too.'    Also  Devil  is  an  Ass,  i.  i : 

Where  canst  thou  carry  him,  except  to  taverns, 
To  mount  upon  a  joint-stool,  with  a  Jew's  trump, 
To  put  down  Cokely. 

63.  19  baited  the  fellow  Tthe  beare's  skin.  Fleay  (Eng.  Drama, 
I.  378)  considers  this  as  satirical  of  Inigo  Jones,  and  refers  to  the 
masque.  Love  Restored:  (Robin  Goodfellow  telling  of  his  difficulty 
to  gain  admission)  'I  would  not  imitate  so  catholic  a  coxcomb  as 
Coryat,  and  make  a  case  of  asses.  Therefore  I  took  another  course. 
i  watched  what  kind  of  persons  the  door  most  opened  to,  and  one 
of  their  shapes  I  would  belie  to  get  in  with.  First  I  came  with 
authority,  and  said  I  was  an  engineer,  and  belonged  to  the  motions. 
They  asked  me  if  I  were  the  fighting  bear  of  last  year,  and  laughed 
me  out  of  that.'  The  present  passage  seems  to  refer  to  some 
burlesque  bear-baiting,  perhaps  of  a  puppet-show.  No  dog  euer  came 
neer  him  since — either  because  of  the  vigor  of  Leatherhead's  whip- 
ping in  urging  the  dogs  on  to  attack  the  mock  bear,  or  on  account 
of  the  ferocity  of  the  bear  which  he  had  devised. 

63.  30  scarfe.  'Scarfs  were  much  worn  by  knights  and  military 
officers  in  the  sixteenth  and*  seventeenth  centuries.  .  .  .  Before 
the  establishment  of  uniforms  the  scarf  was  also  a  sign  of  company.' 
— Planche.  Cf.  Much  Ado,  2.  i.  198:  'What  fashion  will  you  wear 
the  garland  of?     .     .     .     under  your  arm  like  a  lieutenant's  scarf?' 

64.  I    it  stands  me  in.    It  has  cost  me, 

64.  10  forty  shillings?  (twenty  pound  scotsh).  For  several 
centuries  the  coinage  of  Scotland  had  been  debased.     On  the  acces- 


Notes  191 

sion  of  James,  the  Scotch  penny  was  worth  not  more  than  one 
twelfth  of  the  English.  At  the  time  of  our  play,  a  decade  later, 
its  comparative  value  seems  to  have  risen  to  one  tenth.  James,  being 
the  monarch  of  two  kingdoms,  had  to  maintain  a  double  currency 
(cf.  Poole,  131-132). 

64.  13  All  my  wedding  gloues.  Ginger-bread.  Trash's  'Ginger- 
bread progeny'  were  baked,  some  in  the  mold  of  a  hand,  and  some  in 
that  of  a  brooch.  Brand  says:  The  giving  of  gloves  at  marriages 
is  a  custom  of  remote  antiquity.  The  following  is  an  extract  from 
a  letter  to  Mr.  Winwood  from  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  dated  London, 
January,  1604,  concerning  the  manner  of  celebrating  the  marriage 
between  Sir  Philip  Herbert  and  the  Lady  Susan:  "No  ceremony 
was  omitted  of  bridecakes,  points,  garters  and  gloves."  '  In  Epicoene, 
3.  2,  Lady  Haughty  remarks:  'We  see  no  ensigns  of  a  wedding 
here;  no  character  of  a  bride-ale:  where  be  our  scarves  and  our 
gloves?'  Cf.  Calendar  of  State  Papers j  Domestic  Series,  Feb.  10, 
1614:  'Mrs.  Drummond's  marriage  cost  the  Queen  3,000  1.  Sam. 
Danyell  wrote  a  pastoral,  solemn  and  dull.  The  Lord  Mayor  and 
Aldermen  were  invited  the  day  after,  had  rich  gloves,  and  gave  the 
bride  a  cup  with  200  Jacobuses.'  Beck  in  his  Gloves,  their  Annals 
and  Associations  (London,  1883),  235-238,  speaking  of  the  great 
importance  attached  to  gloves  at  weddings  and  legal  betrothals,  says 
that  they  were  given  not  only  to  all  present,  but  also  were  sent 
to  those  who  had  any  reason  to  be  considered  friends  or  acquaint- 
ances. 

64.  16  I'le  ha'  this  poesie  put  to  'hem.  'It  was  formerly  the 
custom  to  engrave  mottoes  or  posies  upon  wedding,  betrothal  and 
other  rings,  and  books  of  these  mottoes  were  published.  One  of- 
these.  Love's  Garland,  appeared  in  1624,  and  again  in  1674.  In  the 
latter  year  was  also  published  Cupid's  Posies  for  Bracelets,  Hand- 
kerchers,  and  Rings,  with  Scarfes,  Gloves,  and   other  things: — 

Written  by  Cupid  on  a  day 

When  Venus  gave  me  leave  to  play. 

The  lover  sheweth  his  intent 

By  gifts  that  are  with  posies  sent.* 

Wheatley,  Every  Man  In,  159. 

65.  12  There  is  a  sketch  by  Inigo  Jones,  entitled  the  'Ballet- 
Singer,'  reproduced  in  Cunningham's  Inigo  Jones. 

65.  18  lime  bush.  A  bush  smeared  with  bird-lime,  'a  viscous 
substance  prepared  from  the  inner  bark  of  the  holly.  Ilex  Aquifolium, 
used  for  entangling  small  birds  in  order  to  capture  them.' — CD. 

65.  27  the  Messe.  'A  set  of  four;  any  group  of  four  persons 
or  things:  originally  as  a  convenient  subdivision  of  a  numerous 
company  at  dinner,  a  practice  still  maintained  in  the  London  inns 


192  Bartholomew  Fair 

of  Court.' — CD.     a.  L.  L.  Lost,  4.  3.  207:    'That  you  three  fools 
lack'd  me  fool  to  make  up  the  mess.' 

66.  19  'In  Jonson's  time  scarcely  any  ballad  was  printed  without 
a  wooden  cut,  illustrative  of  its  subject.  If  it  was  a  ballad  of  "pure 
love",  or  of  "good  life",  which  afforded  no  scope  for  the  graphic 
talents  of  the  Grub-street  Apelles,  the  portrait  of  "good  queen 
Elizabeth",  magnificently  adorned  with  the  globe  and  sceptre,  formed 
no  unwelcome  substitute  for  her  loving  subjects.  The  houses  of  the 
common  people,  especially  those  of  the  distant  counties,  seem  to  have 
had  little  other  ornamental  tapestry  than  was  supplied  by  these  fugi- 
tive pieces,  which  came  out  every  term  in  incredible  numbers,  and 
were  rapidly  dispersed  over  the  kingdom,  by  shoals  of  itinerant 
sirens.' — G. 

66.  31  Paggintons  Pound.  This  tune  more  often  called  Pack- 
ington's  Pound,  is  to  be  found  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  Virginal  Book; 
also  in  A  New  Book  of  Tablature,  1596;  in  the  Collection  of  English 
Songs  printed  at  Amsterdam  in  1634;  etc.  It  was  a  country  dance 
probably  composed  by  Thomas  Pagington,  one  of  the  musicians 
retained  in  the  service  of  the  Protector  Somerset  on  the  death  of 
Henry  VIII,  1547.  See  Chappell's  Collection  of  National  English 
Airs  (London,  1838),  i.  71  (for  the  music),  2.  113  (for  the  history). 

67.  I  This  ballad  with  a  few  slight  variations  is  included  in 
D'Urfey's  Pills  to  Purge  Melancholy  (1719),  4.  20,  'The  Cut-Purse. 
By  B.  Johnson' ;  the  music  is  also  given.  In  the  Roxhurghe  Ballads, 
edited  by  J.  P.  Collier  (1847),  271,  there  is  'A  Caveat  for  Cut-Purses. 
To  the  Tune  of  "Packingtons  Pound." '  Collier  in  his  prefatory 
note  makes  no  mention  of  Jonson's  being  the  author,  although  from 
an  allusion  he  conjectures  it  must  have  'preceded  the  Restoration, 
and  indeed  the  Civil  Wars.'  The  noteworthy  feature  of  Collier's 
'Caveat'  is  that  following  the  first  five  stanzas,  the  same  as  found  in 
our  play,  there  are  five  additional  stanzas,  quite  new;  the  first  of 
which  is: 

The  Players  do  tell  you,  in  Bartholmew  Faire, 

What  secret  consumptions  and  rascals  you  are; 
For  one  of  their  Actors,  it  seems,  had  the  fate 
By  some  of  your  trade  to  be  fleeced  of  late: 
Then,  fall  to  your  prayers, 
You  that  are  way-layers. 
They're  fit  to  chouse  all  the  world, 
That  can  cheat   Players; 
For  he  hath  the  art,  and  no  man  the  worse. 
Whose  cunning  can  pilfer  the  pilferer's  purse. 
Youth,  youth,  etc. 

(The  allusion  in  the  first  line  is  probably  not  to  the  play,  but  to  the 
Smithfield  Fair).    Is  the  ballad  Jonson's,  with  supplemental  verses, 


Notes  193 

or  did  Jonson  take  part  of  a  popular  street  ballad  and  incorporate  it 
into  his  play?  The  former  is  much  more  likely ;  evidence  Amounting 
almost  to  proof,  lies  in  the  mention  of  the  hangman  Dun  in  stanza  9. 
According  to  Collier  (cf.  his  prefatory  note),  Derrick  occupied  that 
office  from  the  last  years  of  Elizabeth's  reign  until  1616,  and  was 
then  succeeded  by  Dun,  who  was  the  hangman  for  the  next  thirty 
or  forty  years.  Hence,  the  later  verses  must  have  been  composed 
some  time  after  the  original  production  of  Bartholomew  Fair,  1614. 

67.  II     for  and.     See  Glossary, 

The  warning  is  no  more  severe  than  the  punishment  that  was 
actually  meted  out  to  cutpurses.  A  hangman  by  the  name  of  Grot- 
well,  was  himself  hanged  with  two  others,  for  robbing  a  booth  in 
Bartholomew  Fair  during  Henry  VHI's  time. 

67.  18,  19  Greene  in  The  Thirde  Part  of  Cony-Catching  (1592), 
Works,  ID.  161-164,  gives  a  very  close  parallel  to  the  game  played 
by  Edgworth  and  Nightingale.  Two  rogues  took  their  stand  in  a 
crowded  place  and  began  singing  ballads,  which  they  oflFered  for  sale. 
Their  confederates  were  among  the  crowd,  noting  'where  euerie  man 
that  bought,  put  vp  his  purse  againe,  and  to  such  as  would  not  buy, 
counterfeit  warning  was  sundrie  times  giuen  by  the  rogue  and  his 
associate,  to  beware  of  the  cut-pursse,  and  looke  to  their  pursses, 
which  made  them  often  feel  where  their  pursses  were.'  By 
'shouldring,  thrusting,  feigning  to  let  fall  something,  and  other  wilie 
tricks',  they  secured  ten  purses.  The  ballad-singers,  however,  were 
suspected;  the  angry  losers  turning  upon  them,  beat  them  well,  and 
had  them  brought  before  the  justice,  before  whom  they  were  con- 
victed as  accomplices.  Cf.  also  The  Winter's  Tale,  4.  4.  605-630, 
where  the  rogue  Autolycus  takes  advantage  of  the  close  attention 
given  to  the  shepherdesses'  songs  to  relieve  the  company  of  their 
'festival  purses.' 

68.  25  handy-dandy.  'An  old  guessing  game  for  children  in 
which  one  player  is  required  to  guess  in  which  hand  another  player 
has  hidden  some  object.'— 5*.!).  Cf.  Lear,  4.  6.  157:  'Change  places; 
and,  handy-dandy,  which  is  the  justice,  which  is  the  thief?' 

68.  28  Cutpurses  in  the  London  theatres  not  infrequently  found 
opportunity  for  plying  their  trade  when  spectators  were  absorbed  in 
the  play.  William  Kemp  in  his  Kemp's  nine  days'  wonder  narrates 
that  at  Burnt  Wood  while  performing  his  famous  morris-dance  from 
London  to  Norwich  (1600),  two  cutpurses  were  taken  into  custody, 
'that  with  other  two  of  their  companions  followed  me  from  London ; 
as  many  better  disposed  people  did.  But  these  two  dy-doppers  gave 
out,  when  they  were  apprehended,  that  "they  had  laid  wagers,  and 
betted  about  my  journey."  Whereupon  the  Officers,  bringing  them 
to  my  inn,  I  justly  denied  their  acquaintance;   saving  that  "I  remem- 


194  Bartholomew  Fair 

bered  one  of  them  to  be  a  noted  cut-purse :"  such  a  one  as  we  tie  to 
a  post  on  our  Stage,  for  all  people  to  wonder  at;  when  at  a  Play, 
they  are  taken  pilfering.' — Arber's  English  Garner,  7.  22. 

69.  8  The  Rat-catchers  charme.  Alluded  to  by  many  con- 
temporary writers.  It  is  described  by  Nares  under  'Rats  Rhymed 
to  Death' :  'The  fanciful  idea  that  rats  were  commonly  rimed  to 
death,  in  Ireland,  arose  probably  from  some  metrical  charm  or  incan- 
tation used  for  that  purpose.  Sir  W.  Temple  seems  to  derive  it  from 
the  Runic  incantations.'  Nares  refers  to  many  passages  where  the 
myth  is  alluded  to,  among  which  are  the  following:  Poetaster, 
Epilogue  to  Reader: 

Rhime  them  to  death,  as  they  do  Irish  rats 
In  drumming  tunes. 

Staple  of  Nezvs,  Interim  after  Act  4:  *0r  the  fine  Madrigal-man 
in  rhyme,  to  have  run  him  out  of  the  country,  like  an  Irish  rat.' 
Very  similar  is  the  myth  on  which  Browning  based  The  Pied  Piper 
of  Hamelin. 

69.  23  In  consideration  of  the  immense  number  of  rogues  in  Lon- 
don at  this  time,  the  term  nation  is  rather  appropriately  applied  to 
them. 

69.  31  he  has  lighted  on  the  wrong  pocket.  Quarlous'  attention 
is  so  concentrated  on  the  purse  that  he  either  does  not  see,  or  fails  to 
appreciate,  that  Edgworth  in  his  thoroughness  is  also  relieving  Cokes 
of  his  handkerchief  (cf.  70.  30).  For  an  old  woodcut,  the  subject 
of  which  is  this  particular  scene,  see  Jonson's  Works  (1716),  vol.  4, 
frontispiece. 

70.  5    And  kisse  not  the  Gallowes.    Cf.  'Kiss  the  dust'. 

70.  22  afore  your  time.  As  though  of  necessity,  like  a  thing 
appointed  by  fate,  Cokes  must  sometime  show  that  he  is  an  Asse. 
Waspe's  injunction  is  that  he  should  not  needlessly  show  himself  one. 

71.  4  Away  Asse,  away.  This  is  an  ingenious  device  of  Edg- 
worth's  by  which  Nightingale  can  withdraw,  and  by  taking  the 
plunder  to  Ursula,  avoid  all  dangerous  consequences,  in  case  that 
later  he  should  be  suspected  and  searched. 

71.  II  be  benefic'd  at  the  Gallowes.  i.  e.  If  he  should  receive 
as  his  church-living,  the  hangman's  noose.  Cokes  (1.  13)  carries 
the  figure  still  further  in  promising  him  no  satisfaction  in  his 
preferment  (superior  office). 

72.  4  An*  there  were  no  wiser  then  I,  etc.  i.  e.  If  I  had  my 
way,  the  opportunity  for  losing  all  your  money  would  be  given  you ; 
Waspe  utters  this  in  a  spirit  of  momentary  impatience  and  disgust. 
He  resumes  his  plain  speech  and  serious  tone  again  in  the  next  line: 
/  would  teach  your  wit,  etc.     Cf.  Staple  of  News,  2.  i :   'Cen.     Well, 


Notes  195 

an  there  were  no  wiser  than  I,  I  would  sew  him  in  a  sack  and  send 
him  by  sea  to  his  princess/  Also  3.  2,  where  the  same  character 
says :  'An  there  were  no  wiser  than  I,  I  would  have  ne'er  a  cunning 
schoolmaster  in  England.' 

72.  II  call  me  Coriat.  The  point  of  this  allusion  rests  on 
Coryate's  having  started  out  on  a  second  journey  (1612),  going  to 
Egypt,  the  Holy  Land,  Persia,  etc.  This  tour  he  announced  would 
be  of  ten  years  duration ;   he  died  in  1617,  before  its  conclusion. 

72.  19  the  danger  of  concealing.  Quarlous'  legal  studies  would 
acquaint  him  with  this. 

72.  ?4  Catchpoles.  Petty  officers  of  justice  under  the  sheriff; 
they  could  make  arrests.  The  name  had  become  an  expression  of 
contempt.  For  an  interesting  account  of  the  origin  of  the  term  see 
Fairholt,  Costume  in  Eng.  288 ;  Fairholt's  statement,  however,  is  not 
supported  by  N.E.D. 

72.  28    flowne  him  to  a  marke.    See  note  on  40.  24. 

73.  6  read  virord  at  my  need.  This  is  an  allusion  to  the  benefit 
of  clergy.  Many  not  belonging  to  that  class  found  occasion  to  use 
it ;  Jonson  himself  escaped  by  this  resort  after  the  murder  of  Gabriel 
Spencer  (cf.  19.  25  and  note).  The  present  passage,  then,  is  equiva- 
lent to:  May  I  receive  no  mercy,  if  ever  I  should  be  tried  and 
condemned. 

73.  22  disparagement.  'Before  the  abolition  of  the  Court  of 
Wards  in  the  twelfth  year  of  Charles  the  Second,  the  heir  of  the 
king's  tenant,  holding  lands  in  capite,  was  during  nonage  ward  of 
the  king,  who  might  sell  or  present  the  right  of  guardianship  and 
bestowal  in  marriage.  Kings'  favourites  had  made  fortunes  by 
traffic  in  the  marrying  of  wealthy  wards.' — Morley,  Mem.  153.  'While 
the  infant  was  in  ward,  the  guardian  had  the  power  of  tendering  him 
or  her  a  suitable  match,  without  disparagement  or  inequality;  which 
if  the  infants  refused,  they  forfeited  the  value  of  the  marriage, 
valorem  maritagii;  that  is,  so  much  as  a  jury  would  assess,  or  any 
one  would  bona  fide  give  to  the  guardian  for  such  an  alliance.' 
— Blackstone's  Commentaries,  2.  5.  5. 

74.  6-7  'There  is  excellent  sense  in  Grace's  answer.  She  is  one 
of  Jonson's  few  estimable  females.' — G.  She  may  be  estimable,  but 
she  is  not  winning.  The  creation  of  a  lovable  woman  was  beyond 
Jonson's  art. 

74.  13  is  the  winde  there?  Cf.  'Is  the  wind  in  that  door?' 
(i  Hen.  IV,  3.  3.  102),  which  was  a  common  expression,  meaning 
'Is  that  how  the  case  stands  ?' 

74.  21  The  Bull  with  the  fiue  legs.  Again  mentioned  in  118.  4. 
See  note  on  'Monsters',  52.  12. 


196  Bartholomew  Fair 

75.  2  the  Pothecaries'  wife,  .  .  .  that  long'd  to  see  the 
Anatomy.     Indicating  a  prurient  curiosity. 

75.  4  to  spit  i*  the  great  Lawyers  mouth.  Cf.  Greene's  Mena- 
phon,  8  (ed.  Arber,  1895)  '■  'Oft  haue  I  obserued  what  I  now  set 
downe;  a  secular  wit  that  hath  Hued  all  daies  of  his  life  by  what 
doo  you  lacke,  to  bee  more  iudiciall  in  matters  of  conceit,  than  our 
quadrant  crepundios  [empty  talkers]  that  spit  ergo  in  the  mouth  of 
euerie  one  they  meet:  yet  those  and  these  are  so  affectionate  to 
dogged  detracting,  as  the  most  poysonous  Pasquil,  anie  durtie 
mouthed  Martin  or  Momus  euer  composed,  is  gathered  vp  with 
greedinesse  before  it  fall  to  the  ground.' 

75.  13  and  cut  my  haire.  *To  express  his  reformation.  Close 
hair  was  at  this  time  the  distinguishing  mark  of  a  Puritan.  The 
subject  of  Busy's  admonition  is  humorously  marked  by  this  inci- 
dental trait  of  superstitious  attachment  to  ceremonials.* — G. 

75.  17  For  long  haire,  it  is  an  Ensigne  of  pride.  Similarly 
Stubbes  (p.  79)  calls  the  ladies'  scarfs,  'flags  of  pride.' 

75.  20  Sathan.  W.  A.  Wright:  'Satan  is  thus  spelt  everywhere 
in  Shakespeare.  The  form  appears  to  have  been  derived  from  the 
Miracle  Plays,  for  I  do  not  find  it  in  the  printed  translations  of  the 
Bible  which  were  in  existence  in  Shakespeare's  time'  (cited  by 
Furness  in  T.  Night,  226). 

75.  24-26    Cf.  Epistle  of  James  3.  15. 

76.  3  how  her  pigge  works,  two  and  a  halfe  he  eate  to  his 
share.  Busy  had  well  fulfilled  his  promise  of  eating  exceedingly 
(cf.  30.  z'^),  and  in  his  loathing  of  ludaisme  he  had  shown  no  half 
heartedness.  Morley  says :  'They  [the  Puritans]  were  open  also  to 
a  charge  of  gluttony.  Zeal-in  [of  ?]-the-Land  Busy  ate  his  two  pigs 
and  a  half  to  a  dinner'  {Mem.  201).  But  this  is  taking  Knockem's 
humorous  exaggeration  too  literally;  the  quantity  specified  is  more 
than  was  ordered  for  the  entire  party  (cf.  57.  8). 

76.  31    clapp*d  fairely  by  the  heeles.     Put  in  the  stocks. 

77.  13  Goldylocks.  Busy  gives  this  name  possibly  because  of 
the  color  of  her  hair,  as  in  Volpone,  i.  i,  'goldy-lock'd  Euphorbus*, 
but  more  likely  because  of  her  yellow  gown;  there  is  a  flower  of 
the  buttercup  species  called  goldilocks,  mentioned  in  Pan's  Anni- 
versary. 

Tj.  14  greene  sleeues.  The  sign  of  a  loose  woman.  Cf.  99.  32 
and  note. 

77.  31  'Busy,  in  the  fury  of  his  zeal,  conceits  himself  a  primitive 
christian,  just  going  to  be  martyred  for  his  religion:  who,  amongst 
the  various  ways  of  torture,  were  often  staked  upon  spears,  and 
forks,  or  pikes ' — W. 


Notes  197 

78.  3  where  we  list  our  selves.  Ourselves  is  the  intensive,  not 
the  reflexive. 

78.  4  loose  vs.  All  other  texts  have  'lose  us'.  Lose  was  often 
confused  with  loose  (cf.  lose,  CD.),  and  may  have  been  the  word 
intended.  On  the  other  hand,  loose  is  the  reading  of  the  foHo  and 
in  the  sense  of  'release'  fits  the  context  sufficiently  well  so  as  not  to 
warrant  the  change. 

78.  13  what  sha*  call  'um.  Jonson  was  fond  of  such  compounds. 
Cf.  Ev.  Man  In,  i.  2:  *0,  B rainworm,  didst  thou  not  see  a  fellow 
here  in  what-sha-call-him  doublet?';  Alchem.  2.  i:  *Dol,  my  lord 
What'tshums  sister,    .    .    .' 


ACT  IV. 

79.  I  Troubleall  is  entirely  a  comic  character.  In  introducing  a 
madman,  Jonson  was  but  following  a  convention  of  the  time.  For 
an  interesting  study  of  the  question  of  the  comic  attitude  toward 
lunacy,  see  Corbin's  The  Elizabethan  Hamlet,  London,  1895. 
Troubleall  differs  from  Shakespeare's  Lear,  fools,  etc.,  in  that  his 
lunacy  occasions  him  no  suffering ;  he  never  impresses  us  as  pathetic 

79.  7  Oliuer  Bristle.  'Bristle  forgets  his  christian  name:  in  a 
former  scene  he  is  called  Davy  [52.  8].  Perhaps  the  forgetfulness 
lies  with  Jonson.  The  question  is  of  some  importance,  but  I  cannot 
decide  it.' — G. 

79.  17  quit  you,  and  so,  multiply  you.  This  is  Troubl call's 
favorite  expression,  for  the  origin  of  which  I  have  sought  unavail- 
ingly.  Can  it  in  any  way  be  connected  with  Justice  Overdo's  court? 
Prof.  G.  L.  Kittredge  of  Harvard,  in  a  personal  note,  says  that  he 
regards  it  as  merely^  a  blessing  at  parting.  Cf.  10.  9:  because  a 
Mad-man  cryes,  God  quit  you,  or  bless  you.  Also  Hen.  V,  2.  2.  166 : 
*K.  Hen.  God  quit  [absolve]  you  in  his  mercy!' 

80.  II     a  Seminary.    Cf.  32.  17  and  note. 

81.  7  ff.  Haggise's  hesitation  in  keeping  his  prisoner  in  the  stocks 
may  be  explained  by  the  following  clause  from  the  City's  Annual 
Proclamation  made  by  the  Mayor  at  the  beginning  of  the  Fair :  'And 
that  no  manner  of  person,  or  persons  take  upon  him,  or  them,  within 
this  Fair  to  make  any  manner  of  arrest,  attachment,  summons  or 
execution,  but  if  it  be  done  by  the  officer  of  this  City,  thereunto 
assigned,  upon  pain  that  will  fall  thereof.'— Cited  by  Walford,  191. 
Overdo  was  being  held  without  a  warrant,  on  the  charge  of  an 
unknown  country  squire. 


198  Bartholomew  Fair 

81.  8  a  very  parantory  person.  Parantory  is  probably  Haggise's 
corruption  of  'peremptory'.    Cf.  Alchem.  5.  2: 

And  take  our  leaves  of  this  o'erweening  rascal, 
This  peremptory  Face. 

Ev.  Man  In,  i.  4:  *A  hanger  .  .  .  most  peremptory  beautiful 
and  gentlemanlike.'  Also  Ev.  Man  In,  i.  i :  'What  would  you  do 
you  peremptory  gull?'  On  the  last,  Wheatley  observes:  The  word 
peremptory  seems  to  have  been  greatly  in  favor  at  this  time,  and 
used  on  all  occasions.' 

81.  II  Doe  I  heare  ill  o*  that  side,  too?  A  latinism — audire 
male.  The  same  occurs  in  Catiline,  4.  6 :  'And  glad  me  doing  well, 
though  I  hear  ill.' 

81.  15  bume  blew.  'To  burn  it  blue:  ?  to  act  outrageously. 
Obsolete  sla.ng.'—N.E.D. 

81.  26  Come,  bring  him  away  to  his  fellow,  there,  i.  e.  Place 
him  with  the  other  fellow.  Haggise  had  given  the  word  to  release 
Overdo  from  the  stocks;  Pocher  coming  up  just  then,  saw  them 
working  over  the  lock  and  supposed  that  they  were  but  putting 
Overdo  in. 

81.  29-33  Busy's  boastful  zeal  sounds  very  much  like  that  of 
another  of  Jonson's  Puritans: 

Tri.     Be  patient,  Ananias. 

Ana.  I  am  strong, 

And  will  stand  up,  well  girt,  against  an  host 
That  threaten  Gad  in  exile. — Alchem.  5.  3. 

82.  2    doe  ouer  'hem.    A  play  on  the  Justice's  name. 

82.  12  out  of  the  word.  'The  puritanical  phrase  for  the  scrip- 
ture.'— G.  It  was  used,  however,  long  before  the  Puritans  became 
known  as  a  party. 

83.  2  Guilt's  a  terrible  thing.  Cf.  Alchem.  5.  i :  'Nothing's 
more  wretched  than  a  guilty  conscience.'  Which,  as  Upton  observes, 
is  from  Plautus  (Mostellaria,  3.  i.  14)  :  'Nihil  est  miserius  quam 
animus  hominis  conscius.' 

83.  II  Dorring  the  Dottrell.  'To  dor  the  dotterel:  to  cajole  or 
hoax  a  simpleton.' — N.E.D. 

83.  23  musse.  A  scramble,  as  for  nuts  and  pennies  among  boys ; 
cf.  Ant.  and  Cleo.  3.  I3-  9i : 

Of  late,  when  I  cried    'Hot' 
Like  boys  unto  a  muss,  kings  would  start  forth, 
And  cry    'Your  will?' 

84.  2  Catherne  peares.  'Catherine  pear.  A  small  and  early 
variety  of  pear.' — N.E.D. 


Notes  199 

84.  3  for  one  vnder-meale.  There  is  difference  of  opinion  as  to 
the  precise  meaning  of  this  phrase.  Gifford  says:  'For  an  after- 
noon's meal,  for  a  slight  repast  after  dinner.'  CD. :  'The  chief  meal 
of  the  day.'  Nares:  'For  one  afternoon.'  Under-meale  is  OE.  in 
origin,  undern  =  middle,  intervening,  and  m^l  =  time,  time  for 
eating,  meal.  The  time  thus  designated  originally  was  the  middle 
of  the  morning,  nine  o'clock.  But  it  was  also  used  of  the  middle 
of  the  afternoon,  and  with  the  indefiniteness  naturally  associated 
with  a  middle  or  intervening  time,  was  further  applied  to  half-past 
ten  in  the  morning  and  to  midday.  In  ME.  we  find  the  same  loose- 
ness in  its  use ;  cf.  Chaucer,  Wife  of  Bath's  Tale,  875 :  'In  under- 
meles  and  in  morweniges'  (meaning  middle  of  the  afternoon,  or 
afternoons),  and  Clerk's  Tale,  260:  'The  tyme  of  undern  of  the 
same  day'  (meaning  middle  of  the  morning).  In  the  present  pas- 
sage it  is  thus  hard  to  arrive  at  a  definite  conclusion;  the  under- 
meale  may  refer  to  the  time,  or  perhaps  as  Gifford  and  CD.  are 
agreed,  to  the  meal  at  that  time.  As  Grace  Wellborn  reminded 
Winwife  and  Quarlous  only  a  little  later  (86.  25),  that  she  had 
known  them  less  than  two  hours — she  had  met  them  at  Littlewit's 
house,  before  going  to  the  Fair,  as  many  things  would  indicate,  about 
ten  or  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning — it  can  not  be  long  after  midday, 
perhaps  one  o'clock. 

84.  10  salt,  onely  to  keepe  him  from  stinking.  'The  same  is 
said  of  swine  by  the  Stoic  Chrysippus,  as  we  learn  from  Tully: 
Sus  vero  quid  habet  prater  escam?  cut  quidem,  ne  putresceret, 
animam  ipsam  pro  sale  datant  dicit  esse  Chrysippus.  De  Natura 
Deor.  lib.  2.  The  application  by  the  poet  does  not  seem  out  of 
character.' — W.     'This  sentiment  is  repeated  elsewhere  by  our  author, 

.     .     .     .     as  scarce  hath  soul, 
Instead  of  salt,  to  keep  it  sweet. 

Devil  is  an  Ass. 

And^by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher: 

.     ,     .     .     this  soul  I  speak  of. 

Or  rather  salt,  to  keep  this  heap  of  flesh 

From  being  a  walking  stench. 

Spanish  Curate.^ 

-G. 

84.  20  Patent  .  .  .  hee  has  of  his  place.  Like  the  patents 
of  nobility,  which  conferred  the  privilege  of  monopoly,  etc.  The 
carrying  of  the  box,  Waspe  takes  upon  himself  because  of  his 
superior  sense  and  greater  carefulness.  When  he  finally  discovers 
that  he  has  lost  it  (133.  11),  his  arrogance  completely  deserts  him, 
and  he  feels  that  he  has  forfeited  the  right  to  his  office. 


200  Bartholomew  Fair 

84.  22  a  reuersion.  A  legal  term,  likely  suggested  by  the  figure 
of  the  Patent,  just  preceding;  it  is  used  here  rather  loosely,  meaning 
hardly  more  than  'possession',  or  perhaps  as  Schmidt  defines  it  in 
Shakespeare,  'Right  or  hope  of  future  possession  or  enjoyment' 

84.  27  quoth  he.  The  antecedent  of  he  is  not  evident.  The  pro- 
noun seems  to  be  used  in  a  general  sense,  the  clause  being  equivalent 
to   'they  call  it'. 

84.  28  I'le  be  martyr'd  for  him,  and  in  Smithfield,  too.  'At 
various  times  also  after  the  accession  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  and 
notably  during  the  famous  days  of  special  persecution,  women  and 
men  were  burnt  alive  as  heretics  in  Smithfield,  and  a  part  of  the 
Fair  was  held  over  the  ashes  of  the  martyrs.  One  of  the  first  of 
these  martyrs  was  John  Bedby,  a  tailor,  burnt  in  Smithfield  in  the 
year  1410.  The  martyr  fires  were  usually  kindled  on  that  spot  of 
ground  outside  the  Priory  gates,  over  which  the  lighter  portion  of 
Bartholomew  Fair  spread,  the  ground  occupied  by  the  holiday  makers 
and  the  tumblers,  jesters,  and  dancers  by  whom  they  were  enter- 
tained.' Morley,  Mem.  78-79.  It  was  not  until  161 1,  only  three  years 
before  the  performance  of  this  play,  that  the  last  martyr-fire  occurred 
at  Smithfield.  'The  victim  was  Bartholomew  Leggatt,  a  pious 
Unitarian,  burnt  for  distrust  of  the  Athanasian  and  Nicene  creeds  by 
James  the  First,  at  the  sentence  of  John  King,  newly  made  bishop 
of  London.' — Ibid.  144. 

84.  31     choake-peares.    A  rough,  unpalatable  variety  of  pear. 

84.  32  I  had  bin  better  ha*  gone  to  mum  chance  for  you.  A 
game  of  chance  played  with  dice;  it  is  mentioned  by  Greene  (Works, 
II.  44)  as  one  of  the  games  at  which  the  cony-catcher  was  especially 
expert. 

The  predicate  of  this  sentence  presents  an  awkward  construction. 
It  may  very  nearly  be  paralleled,  however,  in  Shakespeare;  cf. 
have  i)  in  Schmidt. 

85.  20  wrought  pillowes  there,  and  cambricke  sheetes.  Not 
always  had  such  comforts  existed  in  England,  and  at  this  time  every- 
one did  not  possess  them.  Harrison  (Descript.  of  Eng.  240),  writing 
in  1577,  notes  the  great  improvement  in  lodgings  during  his  lifetime; 
the  rough  mats  of  straw  'couered  onelie  with  a  sheet,  vnder  couerlets 
made  of  dogs-wain  or  hopharlots  .  .  .  and  a  good  round  log 
vnder  their  heads',  had  been  mostly  done  away  with.  In  his  father's 
time  'Pillowes  were  thought  meet  onelie  for  women  in  childbed.' 

85.  21  sweete  bags.  'Bags  of  sweet  herbs,  or  perfumes.  They 
were  far  from  being  unnecessary  in  the  bedchambers  of  those  days, 
and  were  usually  placed  under  the  pillow.' — G.  However,  cf.  note 
on  55,  18,  where  from  the  statement  of  a  Dutch  physician  we  may 
judge  that  the  chambers  of  the  English  were  superior  to  those  found 


Notes  20I 

in  most  of  the  countries  of  Europe,  and  perhaps  in  contrast,  very 
pleasing. 

86.  3  I  am  no  she.  *I  am  no  woman'.  This  is  common  in 
Shakespeare. 

86.  1 6  I  must  haue  a  husband  I  must  loue.  'I  must  have  a 
husband  that  compels  my  respect',  Grace  would  have  said,  had  she 
spoken  more  truly.  Just  where  she  fails  as  a  woman,  is  that  she 
does  not  love.  She  is  well-horn,  discreet,  respectable,  but  in  emotion 
is  entirely  lacking. 

88.  8  my  word  is  out  of  the  Arcadia,  then:  Argalus.  The 
love  of  Argalus  and  Parthenia  is  one  of  the  romances  of  Sidney's 
Arcadia. 

88.  9  And  mine  out  of  the  play,  Palemon.  From  Daniel's 
The  Queen's  Arcadia,  according  to  Fleay;  Gifford  suggests  as  a 
possibility,  Edwards'  Palemon  and  Arcite,  written  much  earlier. 

89.  18  a  Northren  Clothier.  He  is  the  only  representative  in 
our  play  of  the  large  numbers  that  came  from  Halifax,  Leeds, 
Huddersfield,  Rochdale,  Bury,  etc.,  to  bring  their  fabrics  to  the 
great  cloth  fair  of  England.  Their  place  of  business  was  within 
the  gates  of  the  old  Priory,  in  the  district  particularly  known  as 
the  'Cloth  F^ir'  (cf.  note  on  6.  16)  ;  consequently  unless  they  left 
their  goods  and  sought  the  amusements,  they  would  not  come  within 
the  scope  of  our  play. 

89.  19  a  Westerne  man,  that's  come  to  wrastle  before  my 
Lord  Maior.  On  the  afternoon  of  Bartholomew  Day,  the  Lord 
Mayor,  attended  by  the  aldermen  in  their  scarlet  robes  and  gold 
chains,  rode  to  an  appointed  place  in  the  Fair,  where  the  mob 
wrestled  before  them,  the  victors  being  rewarded  with  prizes. 
Hentzner  in  his .  visit  to  London,  1598,  saw  and  described  this 
custom  (cf.  Morley,  Mem.  138). 

89.  21  a  circling  boy.  'A  species  of  roarer;  one  who  in  some 
way  drew  a  man  into  a  snare,  to  cheat  or  rob  him.' — Nares. 
'Whether  this  alludes  to  the  mode  of  surrounding  a  man,  with 
drawn  swords,  and  driving  him  from  side  to  side  (so  familiar  to 
the  Mohawks  of  a  later  age,)  or  to  the  trick  of  irritating  an  adver- 
sary by  giving  him  the  lie  indirectly,  and  so  as  to  avoid  the  necessity 
of  fighting  if  he  manifested  a  proper  degree  of  spirit,  I  am  unable 
to  decide.  Both  practices  are  alluded  to  by  our  old  writers;  and 
the  last  is  mentioned  in  more  than  one  place  by  Jonson  himself 
[Alchem.  3.  2].  A  third  species  of  circling  occurs  in  the  next  scene: 
but  this  has  no  reference  to  the  passage  before  us.' — G. 

89.  27  with  her  hood  vpright.  This  had  about  the  same  signifi- 
cance as  in  termes  of  Justice,  and  the  Stile  of  Authority,  and  is 
equivalent  to    'With  her  assumed  dignity.' 


202  ^  Bartholomew  Fair 

90.  I  Concerning  the  speech  of  Puppy  and  the  Northern  Clothier, 
Professor  Beers,  in  the  essay  already  mentioned  (cf.  note  on  52.  i), 
has  made  some  interesting  observations:  The  speech  of  Puppy  is 
the  same  as  southern  dialect,  which  is  that  used  by  the  low  class 
characters  of  The  Tale  of  a  Tub,  also  by  Edgar  when  he  assumes 
the  character  of  a  Kentish  peasant  in  King  Lear;  this  was  the 
dialect  almost  invariably  adopted  when  dramatists  wished  to  imitate 
the  speech  of  a  rustic.  Some  of  its  features,  as  initial  v  and  z 
for  /  and  s,  respectively,  are  still  heard  in  the  peasant  speech  of 
Dorset,  Somerset,  Wiltshire,  Berkshire,  and  Gloucester.  (Cf. 
Thomas  Hardy's  rustics).  The  Northern  Clothier  says  meeghty, 
indicating  that  the  gh  was  guttural ;  /  is  for  1  am',  a  usage  which 
Prince  Lucien  Bonaparte  and  others  note  as  a  characteristic  pre- 
vailing through  the  northern  counties  of  England.  He  uses  a  for  o ; 
but  incorrectly  Jonson  makes  him  say  paiper  =  piper,  and  vuU  =. 
full,  which  are  southern. 

Vail  Cutting.  For  a  sharp  delineation  by  another  pen,  see  Over- 
bury's  Characters:    *A  Roaring  Boy'. 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  even  late  in  the  play,  Jonson  still  introduces 
new  characters.  We  do  not  see  all  of  the  dramatis  personce  until 
A.  5,  Sc.  3.  This  accounts  in  some  degree  for  the  loose  structure 
of  the  play. 

for  a  lift.    Lift  here  seems  to  be  equivalent  to    'theft',    though 

Imore  commonly  it  denotes  the  thief.     Cf.  Greene's  Conny-C  ate  king 

(Works,  10.  118)   for    The  discouery  of  the  Lifting  Law':    'Some 

base  roges  that  lift  when  they  come  into  Alehouses  quart  potts, 

platters,  clokes,  swords,  or  any  such  paltrie  trash    .     .     .' 

90.  3  the  eale's  too  meeghty.  Bale  (ell),  the  Clothier's  measur- 
ing stick;    the  clause  is  equivalent  to   'The  measure  is  too  much.' 

90.  4  the  staggers?  ha!  Whit,  gi'  him  a  slit  i*the  fore-head, 
etc.  Almost  the  same  remedy  for  staggers  is  suggested  by  Mark- 
ham,  68. 

90.  15  old  Flea-bitten,  thou'lt  neuer  tyre.  'This  is  a  familiar 
observation  of  the  livery  stable,  "A  flea-bitten  horse  never  tires."  ' — G. 

90.  S.  D.    vapours.    See  note  on  38.  5. 

92.  16  will  you  minde  your  businesse,  Sir?  Attend  to  the 
securing  of  the  license. 

93.  16  conserue  the  peace.  'Affrays,  by  which  the  .  .  . 
peace  may  be  broken  or  disturbed',  were  forbidden  by  the  Lord 
Mayor's  Annual  Proclamation  at  the  beginning  of  the  Fair  (cf.  note 
on  33.  9). 

93.  31  A  play  on  an  obsolete  meaning  of  exceeding :  'Of  persons, 
actions,  language,  etc.:  Overstepping  the  limits  of  propriety  or 
custom.' — N.E.D. 


Notes  203 

94.  I  I  would  speake  with  you  in  circle.  I  do  not  know  the 
exact  significance  of  drawing  a  circle.  Evidently  with  the  words 
accompanying  it,  an  insult  or  at  least  a  challenge,  has  been  given; 
Quarlous  recognizing  it  as  such,  steps  into  the  ring.  After  that 
only  a  very  specious  excuse  is  needed  for  a  fight. 

94.  II     Gather  vp.     See  Glossary. 

94.  12  ff.  Mrs.  Overdo  can  overdo,  as  well  as  the  Justice,  and 
the  effect  is  quite  as  funny.  What  she  proposes  here,  is  to  send  out 
against  these  half-drunk  brawlers,  the  sergeant  at  armes,  whose  duty 
it  was  to  preserve  order  in  the  House  of  Lords  and  Commons,  to 
execute  their  warrants,  make  arrests,  etc.;  or  cause  to  be  issued  a 
•writ  of  rebellion,  given  under  the  royal  seal  or  by  some  one  high 
in  authority. 

94.  27  tuft  taffata.  'A  taffeta  woven  with  a  pile  like  that  of 
velvet,  arranged  in  tufts  or  spots.' — CD. 

94.  28    Adam  Scriuener.    An  evident  allusion  to  Chaucer's  poem. 

94.  32  Wee  be  men  and  no  Infidells.  This  contains  a  sugges- 
tion of  the  contempt  and  abuse  commonly  heaped  upon  the  unpopular 
London  watch.  They  were  called  anything  but  men,  least  of  all 
Christians. 

95.  12    brash.    Brace. 

95.  18  the  man  with  the  beard.  The  bearded  face  decorating 
the  outside  of  the  mug.    Cf.  New  Inn,  i.  i : 

Or  at  the  best  some  round-grown  thing,  a  jug 
Faced  with  a  beard,  that  fills  out  to  the  guests. 

95.  19    streeke  vp  hish  heelsh.    Overthrown  him. 

95.  20  Gierke  o'  the  Market.  Tn  every  fair  there  was  its  own 
court  of  prompt  justice,  or  Pie  Poudre  Court.  Proprietors  of  fairs 
were  authorized  also  to  appoint  a  clerk  to  mark  and  allow  weights, 
and  to  take  reasonable  fees.' — Morley,  Mem.  22. 

95.  21  for  my  Lords  seruice.  At  this  time  the  third  Lord  Rich 
possessed  the  proprietary  rights  and  shared  the  tolls  of  the  Fair  with 
the  City  of  London  (cf.  Morley,  Mem.  115-119,  190). 

95.  31  and't  be.  A  meaningless  phrase,  perhaps  elliptical  for  'An 
it  be  pleasing  to  thee.'  Cf.  the  common  'An't  please  thee';  its  use 
in  1.  36  seems  to  be  this.  Whit,  though  a  low  character,  is  attempting 
to  make  a  good  impression  on  Mrs.  Overdo;  here  he  is  laboring 
to  be  very  polite. 

95*  34  put  vp  de  cloakes.  Whit  is  bringing  the  lift  to  Ursula. 
He  has  been  concealing  the  cloaks  under  his  own  garment  since  the 
time  of  the  melee,  when  he   'gathered  up'. 

97'  5     goes  forward.    Latinism ;  cf.  progredi. 

97.  14  fowle  i'  the  Fayre.  'This  was  a  favorite  joke  of  Jonson's 
and  of  half  the  writers  of  the  time.' — Cun.     Cf.  77.  7,  106.  4,  etc. 


204  Bartholomew  Fair 

97.  17  perswade  this,  etc.  Persuade  this  woman  (Mrs.  Little- 
wit)  to  become  a  Bird  0'  the  game,  i.  e.  a  loose  woman. 

98.  II  her  wiers,  and  her  tires.  Wires  were  used  to  support 
the  high  shapes  into  which  the  hair  was  built  (cf.  citation  from 
Stubbes  in  note  on  98.  23),  also  the  very  wide  ruffs,  etc.  Tires  is 
defined  by  CD. :  'A  coronet  or  frontal ;  an  ornament  for  the  head : 
used  loosely  for  any  such  ornament  considered  unusually  rich.' 

98.  13  Ware  and  Rumford.  Ware,  in  Herts,  twenty-one  miles 
from  London,  is  chiefly  famous  for  the  great  bed  alluded  to  in 
T.  Night,  3.  2.  51 ;  it  is  also  known  in  literature  through  Cowper's 
John  Gilpin.  Romford  (there  is  no  Rumford  in  England)  is  an  old 
market  town  in  Essex,  on  the  Colchester  road,  twelve  miles  north- 
east of  London.  These  places  were  at  a  convenient  distance  for  a 
coach  ride,  and  may  have  been  especially  frequented  by  the  strolling 
players. 

98.  19  The  readiness  with  which  Mrs.  Littlewit  listens  to  the 
beguiling  words  is  somewhat  surprising,  coming  so  soon  after  her 
alarm  at  being  left  alone  with  two  men. 

98.  22  as  honesht  as  the  skinne  betweene  his  homsh.  '"As 
honest  as  the  skin  between  his  brows"  was  a  proverbial  expression 
and  I  suspect  Whit's  mis-statement  of  it  is  intentional.' — Cun. 

98.  23  weare  a  dressing,  top,  and  top-gallant.  The  top  and 
top-gallant  are  of  course  sailors'  terms,  and  are  used  here  humor- 
ously by  Knockem  in  alluding  to  the  prevailing  fashion  of  wearing 
the  hair  very  high.  Cf.  Stubbes  (Anat.  of  Abuses,  67)  : '  'Then  fol- 
loweth  the  trimming  and  tricking  of  their  beds  in  laying  out  their 
haire  to  the  shewe,  which  of  force  must  be  curled,  frisled  and  crisped, 
laid  out  (a  World  to  see!)  on  wreathes  and  borders  from  one  eare 
to  an  other.  And  least  it  should  fall  down,  it  is  vnder  propped  with 
forks,  wyers,  &  I  can  not  tel  what,  rather  like  grime  sterne  monsters, 
then  chaste  christian  matrones.'  Cf.  frontispiece  of  the  Abuses,  con- 
taining a  picture  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 

99.  2  puird  her  hood  ouer  her  eares,  and  her  hayre  through  it. 
What  could  be  more  tragic  than  the  destruction  of  Mrs.  Overdo's 
precious  French  hood !  No  wonder  that  at  her  next  appearance  she 
is  hopelessly  drunk ! 

99.  18  Bridewell.  A  house  in  Bride  Lane  built  by  Henry  VIH, 
for  the  reception  of  Charles  V.  In  the  following  reign,  when  it  was 
about  to  be  torn  down.  Bishop  Ridley  begged  it  as  a  Workhouse  for 
the  Poor,  and  a  House  of  Correction  'for  the  strumpet  and  idle 
person,  for  the  rioter  that  consumeth  all,  and  for  the  vagabond  that 
will  abide  in  no  place.'  King  Edward  VI  granted  his  request.  In 
the  reign  of  Elizabeth  and  later,  the  gift  occasioned  no  little  incon- 
venience to  the  city  officials  because  of  the  over-appreciation,  shown 


Notes  205 

by  idle  and  abandoned  people  who  flocked  in  great  numbers  to  that 
vicinity  under  color  of  seeking  an  asylum  in  the  institution.  Several 
acts  were  passed  by  the  Common  Council  to  stop  such  annoyance. 
The  flogging  at  Bridewell,  for  offences  committed  without  the  prison, 
is  described  by  Ward  in  his  London  Spy.  There  are  no  whores', 
says  Sir  Humphrey  Scattergood,  in  Shadwell's  play.  The  Woman 
Captain,  'but  such  as  are  poor  and  beat  hemp,  and  whipt  by  rogues 
in  blue  coats.' — Abridged  from  Wh.-Cun.  i.  240-243.  See  Dekker's 
2  Honest  Whore,  5.  2,  for  a  vivid  contemporary  picture  of  the  occu- 
pants of  Bridewell. 

99.  19     rid  that  weeke.    Were  carted  for  a  bawd. 

99.  22  shall  I  teare  ruffe,  etc.  Gifford  aptly  compares  this  to 
Doll  Tearsheet's  attack  on  Pistol:  'You  a  captain!  you  slave,  for 
what  ?  for  tearing  a  poor  whore's  ruff  in  a  bawdy-house  ?'  (2  Hen.  IV, 
2.  4-  156). 

99.  32  Greene-gownes,  etc.  Nares  says :  'The  character  of  lady 
Greensleeves,  I  fear,  is  rather  suspicious ;  for  green  was  a  color  long 
assumed  by  loose  women.'  He  quotes  the  present  passage  in  support 
of  his  statement  and  refers  also  to  'the  green  gamesters'  (114.  8). 
N.E.D. :  'To  give  a  woman  a  green  gown :  to  roll  her,  in  sport,  on 
the  grass  so  that  her  dress  is  stained  with  green;  hence  euphe- 
mistically' ;  quotations  show  that  it  was  'the  supposed  badge  of  the 
loss  of  virginity.'     Cf.  77.  14,  98.  12. 

loi.  3-6  This  offer  of  a  share  in  the  booty  was  a  shrewd  move 
on  Edgworth's  part.  He  saw  Quarlous'  strong  qualifications  for 
the  cutpurse's  profession,  and  knew  that  like  most  gallants  he  had 
little  money.  If  Quarlous  were  already  a  gentleman  cutpurse  (cf. 
loi.  14),  he  would  make  a  valuable  partner  in  the  business;  if  not, 
he  might  be  enticed  to  give  it  a  trial.  Finally,  it  was  of  the  greatest 
importance  that  Edgworth  should  gain  his  favor,  and  secure  his 
silence;  this  he  attempted  to  do  with  presents  that  without  doubt 
had  been  stolen. 

loi.  14  Facinus  quos  inquinat,  aequat.  Cf.  Lucanus,  Pharsalia, 
5.290. 

102.  23-26  Discretion  is  used  here  three  times,  and  in  three  differ- 
ent senses.  In  1.  23  =  judgment  (late  L.  sense  of  discretio) ',  1.  26 
(first  occurrence )=  prudence  (allied  to  late  L.  and  Rom.  discretus)  ; 
1.  26  (second  occurrence)  =  state  of  being  separated  (ancient  L. 
sense  of  discretio)   (cf.  N.E.D.) . 

102.  29  a  hole  matter.  Evidently  a  play  on  hole,  the  opening  in 
the  stocks  (cf .  104.  9) .    There  is  another  word  of  this  form,  a  variant 

\  of    'hoir,    meaning    'hollow,  empty',    which  may  have  given  a  sec- 
Vondary  meaning. 

103.  7  the  destruction  of  Fayres  and  May-games,  Wakes,  and 
Whitson-ales.    With  the  exception  of  the  May-games,  each  of  these 


2o6  Bartholomew  Fair 

celebrations  originated  in  the  Church,  but  like  the  drama  had  passed 
from  under  its  supervision  and  control,  later  to  encounter  severe 
opposition.  To  understand  the  Puritans'  reasons  for  attack,  cf. 
Brand's  Pop.  Antiq.  (description  of  the  festivities  of  each)  and 
Stubbes'  Anat.  of  Abuses,  148-154,  182-183.  Connected  with  them, 
were  gatherings  of  people  and  considerable  license;  and  that  meant 
knavery,  gluttony,  drunkenness,  and  social  impurity. 

103.  12  I  doe  not  feele  it,  I  doe  not  thinke  of  it,  it  is  a  thing 
without  mee.  As  Gifford  observes,  the  Justice  is  affecting  the  lofty 
language  of  stoicism.     Cf.  Epictetus,  Encheiridion,  i.  i :  TtSv  6vT<av  ri 

103.  14    In  te  manca,  etc.    From  Horace,  Sat.  2.  7.  84-88. 
103.  17    non  te  quaesiueris  extra.    From  Persius,  Sat.  1.  7. 

103.  23  those  lists  of  Latin.  *i.  e.  Fag-ends  or  selvages  of  Latin.' 
— Cun. 

104.  2-4    Cf.  I  Cor.  7.  37,  16.  13 ;   Gal.  5.  i ;  2  Tim.  2.  19 ;  2  Pet. 

1.  ID. 

104.  26  earnes.  'Apparently  a  variation  of  yearn :  OE.  geornian : 
cf.  dialectic  ear  for  year.' — N.E.D.  It  is  here  used  impersonally  in 
the   sense   of  affecting  with  grief   or   compassion.     Cf.   /.    Caesar, 

2.  2.  129: 

That   very   like   is   not   the   same   O   Caesar, 
The  heart  of  Brutus  yearns  [earnes  the  reading  of 
folios   I,   2,   3,  4]   to  think  upon! 

105.  6  I  haue  a  nest  of  beards  in  my  Truncke.  The  trunk-hose 
was  one  of  the  most  ridiculous  fashions  of  this  faddish  age,  and  may 
well  be  compared  with  the  women's  monstrous  farthingales  (see  cuts 
in  Planche,  2.  230;  CD.,  under  trunk-hose).  The  immense  increase 
in  the  amount  of  stuffing  used  at  this  time  in  the  hose,  owed  its 
adoption,  according  to  a  contemporary  writer,  to  the  pusillanimity 
of  James  I,  who  fearing  assassination  wore  padded  garments  (cf. 
Planche,  2.  229).  Dekker  gives  a  hint  in  regard  to  their  material 
(2  Honest  Whore,  3.  2)  : 

Bell.     Where's  all  his  money? 

Ord.  'Tis  put  over  by  exchange ;  his  doublet 
was  going  to  be  translated,  but  for  me.  If  any 
man  would  ha'  lent  but  half  a  ducat  on  his  beard, 
the  hair  of  it  had  stuffed  a  pair  of  breeches  by 
this  time. 

Thieves  were  said  to  conceal  all  their  plunder  in  them:  poor  bullies 
kept  their  small  wardrobe  in  the  same  portable  repository'. — Thorn- 
bury,  I.  252. 


Notes  207 


ACT  V. 

106.  I  out  with  the  signe  of  our  inuention.  Striking  pictures 
of  the  show  to  be  given  were  displayed  to  attract  the  curious.  An 
excellent  idea  of  the  puppet-booth's  appearance  is  to  be  had  from 
a  fan  sold  in  the  Fair  about  1728,  on  which  several  booths,  among 
other  scenes  of  the  Fair,  were  depicted.  Copies  of  these  pictures  are 
given  in  Morley's  Mem.  394,  395,  396,  also  in  The  Book  Buyer,  19.  95. 
The  banner,  mentioned  in  1.  6,  was  raised  after  the  custom  of  the 
theatres,  to  show  a  play  was  either  about  to  begin  or  already  in 
progress. 

106.  3    All  the  fowle  i*the  Fayre.    Cf.  note  on  97.  14. 

106.  8  Master  Pod.  Also  mentioned  as  a  producer  of  motions 
in  Ev.  Man  Out,  4.  4,  and  in  Epigram  97. 

106.  9  £F.  The  motions  mentioned  here  were  drolls  that  had  been 
actually  presented  at  the  Fair.  Cf.  the  poem  of  the  'Long  Vacation', 
included  in  the  first  edition  of  Wit  and  Drollery,  1656  (cited  by 
Morley,  Mem.  318)  : 

.     .     .     man  that  doth  in  chest  include 
Old  Sodom  and  Gomorra  lewd.     .     .     . 
And  shew  that  while  the  puppets  play, 
Though  none  expounded  what  they  say: 
And  Ape  led  captive  still  in  chain 
Till  he  renounces  the  Pope  and  Spain,     .     .     . 

106.  12  Shr cue-Tuesday  was  a  time  of  license,  and  the  appren- 
tices' especial  holiday.  Thus  Dekker  says  in  the  Seuen  Deadly 
Sinnes  {Works,  2.  65)  :  'They  presently  (like  Prentises  vpon  Shroue- 
tuesday)  take  the  lawe  into  their  owne  handes,  and  doe  what  they 
list.'  It  seems  also  to  have  been  a  custom  for  the  city  officials  to 
search  out  loose  women  on  this  day,  and  to  confine  them  during 
Lent.     Cf.  Brand's  Pop.  Antiq.  i.  89. 

106.  13  the  Gunpowder-plot,  there  was  a  get-penny.  Its  long- 
lived  popularity  is  attested  by  'Bartleme  Fair',  a  song  by  George 
Alexander  Stevens,  included  in  Songs,  Comic  and  Satyrical  (1772)  : 

Here's  Punch's  whole  play  of  the  gunpowder-plot,  sir. 
Wild  beasts  all  alive,  and  pease-porridge  hot,  sir: 
Fine  sausages  fry'd,  and  the  Black  on  the  wire; 
The  whole  Court  of  France,  and  nice  pig  at  the  fire. 

106.  14  an  eighteene,  or  twenty  pence  audience,  nine 
times  in  an  afternoone.  This  affords  some  interesting  information 
regarding  the  size  of  the  audiences  that  witnessed  the  puppet-shows, 
also  of  the  length  of  the  performance. 


2o8  Bartholomew  Fair 

io6.  17    they  put  too  much  learning  i'their  things  now  o'dayes. 

This  was  the  cause  of  the  failure  of  Catiline  three  years  before,  and 
the  doubt  as  to  the  success  of  such  a  play  as  Hero  and  Leander  for 
the  same  reason  may  thus  have  been  a  thinly  veiled  satire  on  the 
low  intelligence  of  the  theatre-going  public.  Magnin,  however, 
regards  this  as  an  allusion  to  the  invasion  of  the  classic  repertoire 
by  the  puppet-master,  as  he  produced  adaptations  of  such  plays  as 
Julius  Caesar  and  the  Duke  of  Guise,  an  act  which  was  regarded 
with  considerable  resentment  by  most  of  the  dramatists  (cf.  Histoire 
des  Marionnettes,  225). 

106.  24  A  penny  was  the  general  charge  of  admission  to  such 
performances. 

107.  5  The  Justice  in  his  overdoing  would  imitate  the  Hebrews' 
Jehovah. 

107.  12    strucke  in.    Arrived,  come  in. 

108.  19  the  second  part  of  the  society  of  Canters.  'Canters 
were  confirmed  sturdy  vagrants.' — Cun.     Cf.  Staple  of  News,  2.  i : 

A  rogue 
A  very  canter,  I  sir,  one  that  maunds 
Upon  the  pad. 

The  name  was  also  used  for  a  talker  of  religious  cant,  and  during 
the  seventeenth  century  was  especially  applied  to  the  Puritans  (cf. 
N.E.D.).     Both  ideas  are  included  in  the  word  as  used  here. 

108.  29  to  draw  feasts,  and  gifts  from  my  intangled  suitors. 
Had  she  been  portrayed  when  practicng  her  mercenary  craft,  we 
might  have  had  a  female  Volpone. 

109.  7  Feoffee  in  trust.  *A  trustee  invested  with  a  freehold 
estate  in  land.' — N.E.D. 

III.  6  reducing  the  young  man  .  .  .  from  the  brinke  of 
his  bane.     A  Latinism ;   see  reduce  in  Glossary. 

III.  12  Master  of  the  Monuments.  It  is  likely  that  Cokes  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  pictures  on  the  outside  of  the  booth  (cf.  the 
signe  of  our  inuention,  106.  2),  and  here  is  referring  to  them.  We 
must  not  probe  too  deep  for  meaning  in  the  words  of  the  phantasicall 
Cokes. 

III.  16  The  ancient  moderne  history  of  Hero,  and  Leander. 
'This  is  a  burlesque  on  the  absurd  titles  of  some  of  our  ancient 
dramas ;  but  more  particularly  on  that  of  Preston's  "A  lamentable 
Tragedy  of  the  life  of  King  Cambyses,  mixed  full  of  pleasant  mirth", 
etc.'— G. 

111.  20    Bankside.    See  note  on  7.  13. 

112.  7  voluntary.  Commonly  used  for 'volunteer' ;  one  who,  for 
services  willingly  undertaken,  is  given  special  privileges.    Hence  in 


Notes  209 

the  present  case,  free  admission  to  Littlewit,  because  of  his  author- 
ship, 

112.  12  you  are  exceeding  well  met.  A  form  of  salutation 
common  in  Shakespeare.  Cf.  As  Y.  Like  It,  3.  3.  65,  Mer.  Wives, 
I.  I.  200,  M.  N.  Dream,  4.  i.  181. 

112.  15    and  by  that  fire.    Fire  of  hell. 

113.  3  Call  me  not  Leatherhead.  Lest  the  name  should  lead 
Cokes  to  recognize  the  hobby-horse  seller  who  had  cozened  him  out 
of  thirty  shillings  (cf.  64.  4). 

113.  6  ff.  Cokes'  manners  may  well  be  compared  with  Dekker's 
satirical  advice  as  to  'How  a  Gallant  should  behaue  himself  in  a 
Play-house'  {The  Guls  Horn-Booke,  chap.  6)  :  'By  sitting  on  the 
stage,  you  may  (without  trauelling  for  it)  at  the  very  next  doore 
aske  whose  play  it  is :  and,  by  that  Quest  of  Inquiry,  the  law  war- 
rants you  to  auoid  much  mistaking.  .  .  .  You  shall  put  your 
selfe  into  such  true  scaenical  authority,  that  some  Poet  shall  not 
dare  to  present  his  Muse  rudely  vpon  your  eyes,  without  hauing  first 
vnmaskt  her,  rifled  her,  and  discouered  all  her  bare  and  most  mysti- 
call  parts  before  you  at  a  tauerne,  when  you  most  knightly  shal,  for 
his  paines,  pay  for  both  their  suppers.  By  sitting  on  the  stage,  you 
may  (with  small  cost)  purchase  the  deere  acquaintance  of  the  boyes : 
haue  a  good  stoole  for  sixpence :  at  any  time  know  what  particular 
part  any  of  the  infants  present :  get  your  match  lighted,  examine 
the  play-suits  lace,  and  perhaps  win  wagers  vpon  laying  tis  copper, 
&c.'     Further,  cf.  Collier's  Annals  of  the  Stage,  3.  406-18. 

113.  9  our  Tiring-house  is  somevirhat  little.  As  Ordish  notes 
(£.  London  Theatres,  225),  this  with  the  Stage-keeper's  remark  in 
the  Induction,  to  the  effect  that  the  Poet  had  kicked  him  three  or 
four  times  about  the  tiring-house,  may  be  satirical  of  a  deficiency 
in  the  green-room  accommodations  in  the  new  theatre. 

113.  19  the  quality.  'Profession,  occupation,  business,  esp.  that 
of  an  actor'. — N.E.D. 

113.  26    Players  minors.     Children-players. 

113.  32  one  Taylor,  would  goe  neere  to  beat  all  this  company. 
As  Ordish  observes  (E.  London  Theatres,  225),  this  is  an  allusion 
to  Taylor  the  Water- Poet,  who  a  few  days  before  had  sustained  the 
fiasco  of  a  wit-combat  with  Fennor,  The  full  particulars  may  be 
found  in  Taylor's  Works,  142,  under  the  title:  'TAYLORS  RE- 
VENGE :  or.  The  Rimer  WILLIAM  FENNOR,  firkt,  ferrited,  and 
finely  fetcht  ouer  the  Coales.' 

113.  34  and  eate  'hem  all,  too,  an'  they  were  in  cake-bread. 
'This  allusion  to  the  voracity  of  tailors  for  cake-bread,  must  have 
conveyed  some  pleasant  idea  to  the  audiences  of  those  times,  of  the 
nature  of  which  we  are  now  ignorant,  since  it  is  found  in  most  of 
our  old  dramas.' — G. 


2IO  Bartholomew  Fair 

114.  4  your  Field.  Nathaniel  Field,  the  actor  and  dramatist, 
1587-1633.  His  name  is  the  first  mentioned  in  the  lists  of  actors 
in  Cynthia's  Revels,  1600,  the  Poetaster,  1601,  and  Epicoene,  1609 
(cf.  1616  folio)  ;  according  to  Fleay  he  was  a  member  of  Lady 
Elizabeth's  company,  1613-14.  Jonson  is  here  paying  him  a  high 
compliment  in  associating  his  name  with  that  of  the  leading  actor 
of  the  time,  Richard  Burbage.  A  similar  place  was  given  him  fifty 
years  later  by  Richard  Flecknoe  in  his  Short  Discourse  of  the 
English  Stage :  *In  this  time  were  poets  and  actors  in  their  greatest 
flourish;  Jonson  and  Shakespeare,  with  Beaumont  and  Fletcher, 
their  poets,  and  Field  and  Burbage,  their  actors'  (cited  by  D.N.B.). 
There  is  a  reference  to  him  in  the  Prologue  of  Chapman's  Bussy 
D'Amhois  (printed  1607)  :  'Field  is  gone,  whose  action  first  did  give 
it  name — .'  In  the  Conversations  (1619)  Jonson  says  of  him:  'Nid 
Field  was  his  schollar,  and  he  had  read  to  him  the  Satyres  of 
Horace,  and  some  Epigrames  of  MartialL' 

114.  8    green  gamesters.     See  note  on  99.  32. 

114.  II    at  large.    Fully. 

114.  13  fleere,  nor  geere,  nor  breake  iests,  as  the 
great  Players  doe.  The  actors  commonly  took  great  liberties 
with  the  text  of  a  play  and  did  not  hesitate  to  insert  local  hits. 
A  great  deal  of  the  power  of  Tarlton  on  the  stage,  as  well  as  oflF, 
consisted  in  his  quickness  at  extempore  wit.  See  Tarlton's  Jests 
in  Shakespeare  Jest-Books  (London,  1864)  :  *A  jest  of  an  apple 
hitting  Tarlton  on  the  face',  'How  Tarlton  and  one  in  the  gallery 
fell  out',  etc. 

114.  21  shalses  his  head  like  an  hostler.  An  allusion  to  William 
Ostler,  the  actor,  according  to  Fleay.  His  name  is  mentioned  in  the 
list  of  actors  in  the  first  folio,  as  playing  in  the  Poetaster,  1601, 
Alchemist,  1610^  Catiline,  161 1.  So  little  is  known  of  him,  however, 
that  it  is  speculative  to  call  the  present  passage  an  allusion. 

114.  22  according  to  the  printed  booke.  The  reference  is  to 
Marlowe's  Hero  and  Leander  (1598),  which  begins: 

On  Hellespont,   guilty  of  true  love's  blood, 
In  view  and  opposite  two  cities  stood. 
Sea-borderers,  disjoined  by  Neptune's  might; 
The  one  Abydos,  the  other  Sestos  bight. 
At  Sestos  Hero  dwelt;    Hero  the  fair,     .     .     . 

115.  2  Puddle- wharf e.  Now  called  Puddle  Dock,  at  the  foot  of 
St.  Andrew's  Hill,  Upper  Thames  Street,  Blackfriars. 

115.  4  old  fish-street.  No  longer  existing  under  this  name;  the 
eastern  portion  was  lost  in  the  making  of  Queen  Victoria  Street, 
and  the  rest  was  merged  into  Knight-Rider  Street.  Cf.  Stow's 
Survey,  129:    'In  this  Old  Fish  street  is  one  row  of  small  houses. 


Notes  211 

placed  along  in  the  midst  of  Knightriders  street,  which  row  is  also 
of  Bread  street  ward:  these  houses,  now  possessed  by  fishmongers, 
were  at  the  first  but  moveable  boards  (or  stalls),  set  out  on  market- 
days,  to  show  their  fish  there  to  be  sold.' 

Trigsstayers.  The  Stairs  have  disappeared,  but  the  name  still 
survives  in  Trig  Lane  and  Trig  Wharf.  This  was  the  nearest  land- 
ing in  going  up  Old  Fish-street  Hill  to  Old  Fish  Street. 

115.  12  Hero  shall  be  my  fayring.  Hero  shall  be  my  treasure 
(favorite).  Cokes  puts  on  the  gallant's  patronizing  airs,  and  to 
show  his  familiarity  with  the  actors,  gives  them  pet  names  suggested 
by  the  different  treasures  he  has  bought. 

116.  12    I  doubt.    I  fear. 

116.  16    fine  fire- works.    Cf.  Alchem.  i.  i : 

And  blow  vp  gamester  after  gamester, 
As  they  do  crackers  in  a  puppet-play. 

In  speaking  of  fireworks  in  London  during  the  reign  of  James  I, 
Strutt  says  (Sports  and  Pastimes,  375)  :  *So  far  as  one  can  judge 
from  the  machinery  delineated  in  the  books  formerly  written  upon 
the  subject  of  firework  making,  these  exhibitions  were  clumsily  con- 
trived, consisting  chiefly  in  wheels,  fire-trees,  jerbs,  and  rockets,  to 
which  were  added,  men  fantastically  habited,  who  flourished  away 
with  poles  or  clubs  charged  with  squibs  and  crackers,  and  fought 
with  each  other,  or  jointly  attacked  a  wooden  castle  replete  with  the 
same  materials,  or  combated  with  pasteboard  dragons  running  upon 
lines  and  "vomitting  of  fire  like  verie  furies".' 

116.  32  This  is  a  very  priuate  house.  Among  the  general 
features  of  the  private  theatre,  as  noted  by  Collier  (cf.  Hist,  of  Eng. 
Dram.  Poetry,  3.  335),  were  the  smaller  size,  protection  of  the  whole 
b}'^  a  roof,  seats  in  the  pit,  and  an  audience  of  much  higher  character. 
Thus  in  the  first  three  points,  the  puppet-booth  was,  indeed,  like  a 
private  theatre,  though  it  is  only  as  a  bit  of  humor  that  Edgworth 
speaks  of  it  as  such  to  the  credulous  Win. 

116.  34  doe  so  all  to  be  Madame  mee.  Cf.  Cynthia's  Revels, 
4.  i: 

Ods  my  life,  how  he  does  all-to-bequalify  her ! 

Also  Magnetic  Lady,  i.  i :  '  .  .  .  and  all-to-be-laden  with 
miracles.' 

117.  2  The  masks  and  green  gowns  disguised  the  women,  and 
by  preventing  the  Justice  from  recognizing  them  at  this  time,  made 
possible  the  final  surprise.  Masks  were  not  uncommon  in  1614,  but 
were  by  no  means  the  convention  of  the  following  reign,  when  a 
woman  seen  at  a  public  occasion  without  a  mask  was  considered 
barefaced  and  immodest.  Cf.  Jonson's  lines,  'To  Mr.  John  Fletcher 
upon  his  Faithful  Shepherdess' : 


212  Bartholomew  Fair 

The  wise,  and  many-headed  bench,  that  sits 
Upon  the  life  and  death  of  plays  and  wits, 
(Compos'd  of  gamester,   captain,   knight,   knight's  man. 
Lady  or  pucelle,  that  wears  mask  or   fan. 

117.  27  will  stay  for  nere  a  Delia  o'hem  all.  An  allusion  to 
Samuel  Daniel's  sonnet-cycle  Delia,  published  in  1592,  which  was 
for  a  long  time  very  popular,  Fleay  considers  the  character  of 
Littlewit  as  satirical  of  Daniel,  but  there  is  little  ground  for  such 
a  conjecture.  He  is  mentioned  twice  in  the  Conversations  (1619)  : 
'Samuel  Daniel  was  a  good  honest  man,  had  no  children;  but  no 
poet';    'Daniel  was  at  jealousies  with  him.' 

118.  6  Vxbridge  Fayre.  Held  at  Uxbridge,  fifteen  miles  north- 
west of  London.  The  custom  of  taking  exhibits,  curiosities,  and 
shows  from  one  fair  to  another  seems  to  have  been  common,  just 
as  to-day  in  the  New  England  village  fairs. 

118.  36  In  addition  to  the  discussion  already  given  to  the  Puppet- 
play  (see  Sec.  3  of  Introduction),  something  may  be  said  on  the 
method  of  performance.  There  were  two  kinds  of  plays;  the  first, 
in  which  the  'interpreter'  gave  a  running  commentary  on  the  action, 
all  in  his  own  person, — for  examples  see  the  motion  in  Tale  of  a  Tub, 
A.  5,  or  better  Don  Gayferos  and  Melisandra  in  Don  Quixote,  part  2, 
chap.  26;  the  second,  in  which  the  interpreter,  disguising  his  voice 
or  using  ventriloquism,  gave  the  dialogue  as  though  spoken  by  the 
puppets — our  play  is  an  example  of  this  latter  class.  Leatherhead  is 
without  question  the  motion-master  in  Hero  and  Leander,  but  there 
is  a  difference  of  opinion  in  regard  to  the  operation  of  the  puppets. 
Thus  Flogel  in  his ,Geschichte  des  Grotesk-Komischen,  126,  says: 
'Ein  zweites  Puppenspiel,  welches  Ben  Johnson's  Bartholomew  fair 
beschliesst,  ist  dagegen  ganz  verschieden,  denn  hier  sprechen  die 
Puppen  selbst,  d.h.  durch  einen  hinter  den  Coulissen  versteckten 
Mann,  der  ubrigens  eben  so  gut  wie  der,  welcher  vor  der  Biihne 
befindlich  ist,  den  Namen  Interpreter  fiihrt'.  But  Collier  (Punch 
and  Judy,  20)  remarks  on  the  same  play:  The  exhibitor  standing 
above  and  working  the  figures,  "interprets"  for  them,  and  delivers 
the  burlesque  dialogue  he  supposes  to  pass  between  the  characters.' 
Now  while  the  method  of  performance  most  generally  employed 
required  an  assistant,  concealed  in  the  puppet-booth,  to  work  the 
figures  and  speak  the  dialogue,  in  the  present  play  Leatherhead, 
to  use  his  own  words,  is  'the  mouth  of  them  all';  it  is  he  who 
does  the  talking,  and  the  text  makes  quite  as  evident  that  he  is 
visible  to  the  audience.  Flogel  in  his  explanation,  then,  is  incorrect. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  in  considering  Collier's  theory,  it  should  be 
remembered  that  the  puppets  twice  assault  Leatherhead,  strike  his 
pate,  and  cry    'to  pink  his  guts',    making  it  evident  that  he  is  not 


Notes  '  213 

standing  wholly  above  them.  The  only  practical  way  of  operating 
the  puppets,  consistent  with  the  hints  given  in  the  text,  requires 
that  Leatherhead  stand  within  the  booth,  his  head  and  shoulders 
appearing  behind  and  above  the  stage,  and  that  from  this  position 
he  perform  his  twofold  labor. 

118.  37    amorous  Leander.    Cf.  Marlowe: 

Amorous  Leander,  beautiful  and  young, 
(Whose  tragedy  divine  Musaeus  sung,) 
Dwelt  at  Abydos. 

119.  7    seeing  Leanders  naked  legge,  and  goodly  calfe.    Cf. 

Marlowe : 

His  body  was  as  straight  as  Circe's  wand ; 

Jove  might  have   sipt   out  nectar   from  his  hand. 

Even  as  delicious  meat  is  to  the  tast. 

So  was  his  neck  in  touching,  and  surpast 

The  white   of   Pelops'   shoulder:     I    could  tell   ye. 

How  smooth  his  breast  was,  and  how  white  his  belly. 

119.  8  a  Sheepes  eye,  and  a  halfe.  Nares:  'To  cast  a  sheep's 
eye,  to  look  amorously  or  wantonly.'     Cf.  Cartwright's  Ordinary : 

If  I  do  look  on  any  woman,  nay. 

If  I  do  cast  a  sheeps  eye  upon  any.  (cited  by  Nares). 

119.  II  Cole,  Cole,  old  Cole.  'Bartholomew  Fair  was  first  acted 
in  1614,  and  yet  we  have  an  allusion  to  this  part  of  it  in  the 
Satiro-mastix,  which  appeared  in  1602 : 

'^Horace.     I'll  lay  my  hands  under  your  feet,   Captain  Tucca. 

Tucca.  Says't  thou  me  so,  old  Cole.  Come,  do  it  then:  yet,  'tis  no  matter, 
neither;  I'll  have  thee  in  league  first  with  these  two  rollypollies ;  they  shall 
be  thy  Damons  and  thou  their  Pithiases."     Act  i. 

As  Horace  is  known  to  be  meant  for  our  author,  there  can  be  no 
doubt,  I  think,  that  the  reference  was  to  this  interlude  of  Damon 
and  Pithias:  it  would  seem,  therefore,  that  it  had  been  exhibited  at 
an  early  period  as  a  simple  burlesque  and  that  Jonson  was  induced 
by  its  popularity  to  recast  it,  and  with  the  addition  of  Busy  and 
some  other  characters,  to  interweave  it  with  the  present  drama. 
However  this  be,  the  idea  of  introducing  it  was  most  ^happy,  the 
execution  at  once  skillful  and  diverting,  and  the  success  complete. 
Old  Cole  is  used  by  Marston  in  the  Malcontent  (1604),  which  is 
dedicated  to  our  author ;  the  term  therefore  must  have  been  familiar 
to  the  stage :  another  proof,  perhaps,  of  the  celebrity  of  this  little 
piece,  at  a  period  long  anterior  to  Bartholomew  Fair.' — G.  Later 
in  the  Satiro-mastix,  Horace  is  called  the   'puppet-teacher'. 


a  14  Bartholomew  Fair 

120.  4  Swan.  Probably  a  tavern  in  Old  Fish  Street.  It  is  not 
to  be  identified  with  the  'Swan',  Charing  Cross,  much  frequented 
by  Jonson,  but  nearly  a  mile  distant. 

I20.  21  Hogrubber.  'Hog  Grubber:  A  mean  stingy  fellow.* 
— Lex.  Balat. 

Pickt-hatch.  A  noted  resort  of  prostitutes  and  pick-pockets,  at 
the  back  of  the  narrow  turning  now  called  Middle  Row,  opposite 
the  Charter  House  wall.  Cf.  'Character  of  the  Persons'  preceding 
Ev.  Man  Out :  Shift.  'A  thread-bare  shark ;  one  that  never  was  a 
soldier,  yet  lives  upon  lendings.  His  profession  is  skeldring  and 
odling,  his  bank  Paul's,  and  his  warehouse  Pict-hatch.'  Also  Mer. 
Wives,  2.  2.  20.  Middleton  laid  the  scene  of  his  Black  Book  at 
Pict-hatch,  and  it  is  probable  that  the  satirist  Nash  died  there. 

120.  S.  D.  The  Puppet  strikes  him  ouer  the  pate.  The  puppet- 
sculler  with  his  coarse  language  and  violent  manners,  is  representa- 
tive of  the  three  thousand  and  more  watermen  who  plied  the 
Thames.  Cf.  Thornbury,  i.  59:  'The  waterman,  or  water-rats,  as 
they  were  called  in  jest,  were  greater  extortionists  than  our  own 
cabmen,  diligent  and  civil  till  they  got  a  passenger  into  their  boat, 
but  scurrilous  and  violent  if  their  unjust  charge  of  fare  was  refused. 
If  the  passenger  were  a  servant  or  an  apprentice,  they  would  stop 
his  hat  or  cloak  for  the  money;  their  pay  being  two-pence  out  of 
every  twelve  they  could  get.  Sometimes  they  caught  a  tartar,  got 
their  heads  broke,  and  their  proper  fee  refused.  They  used  to  sit 
in  noisy  knots  on  the  water  stairs,  waiting  for  fares,  and  disputing 
for  them  when  they  came.  .  .  .  They  were  famous  for  their 
coarse  wit,  and  were  formidable  by  their  number  and  spirit  of 
cooperation.' 

121.  4  hee  shall  be  Dauphin  my  boy.  Cf.  Lear,  3.  4.  104: 
'Dolphin  my  boy';  Furness  {Variorum  ed.)  cites  a  note  by  Steevens 
on  an  old  ballad,  of  which  this  was  the  burden. 

121.  16  'It  was  the  fashion  not  only  for  the  puppets  of  the  text, 
but  for  those  of  flesh  and  blood,  to  introduce  themselves  to  strangers 
with  a  propitiatory  cup  of  wine,  which  preceded  their  appearance. 
There  is  a  story  told  of  bishop  Corbet  and  Jonson  which  illustrates 
this  practice,  and  is  at  the  same  time  so  characteristic  of  both,  that 
it  has  every  appearance  of  being  genuine.  "Ben  Jonson  was  at  a 
tavern,  in  comes  bishop  Corbet  (but  not  so  then)  into  the  next  room. 
Ben  Jonson  calls  for  a  quart  of  raw  wine,  and  gives  it  to  the  tapster. 
'Sirrah !'  says  he,  'carry  this  to  the  gentleman  in  the  next  chamber, 
and  tell  him  I  sacrifice  my  service  to  him.'  The  fellow  did  and  in 
those  terms.  'Friend,'  says  bishop  Corbet,  'I  thank  him  for  his 
love,  but  prithee  tell  him  from  me  that  he  is  mistaken,  for  sacrifices 
are  always  burnt.'  "  Mery  Passages  and  leasts.  Harl.  MSS.,  No. 
6395.-0. 


Notes  215 

121.  25    a  dead  lift.    'A  desperate  emergency.' — CD. 

121.  26  a  nine  dayes  wonder.  'A  subject  of  astonishment  and 
gossip  for  a  short  time,  generally  a  petty  scandal.' — CD.  Cf. 
Chaucer's  Troilus,  4.  588 : 

For  when  men  han  wel  cryed,  than  wol  they  roune  ; 
A  wonder  last  but  nyne  night  never  in  toune. 

122.  5    puflfe  with  him.    'Vapor',  bully  him. 

123.  5  Gifford  sees  in  this  squabble  a  burlesque  on  that  of  Jack 
and  Wylle  in  Damon  and  Pithias.  The  resemblance,  however,  is  so 
slight  as  to  make  it  highly  improbable  that  our  author  had  this  in 
mind.  The  scene  referred  to  has  not  a  decided  enough  character 
to  make  it  a  good  subject  for  burlesque. 

123.  20  with  a  hone  and  honero.  Cunningham  cites  a  manu- 
script note  of  Dyce's,  'This  was  uttered,  I  imagine,  in  a  lamentable 
tone,  in  imitation  of  an  Irish  howl.'  Cf.  An  Bartholomew  Fairing, 
a  Royalist  pamphlet  of  1649,  quoted  by  Morley  {Mem.  198)  : 

Stand  off,  make  room,  give  way,  for  I  come  Post, 
My  Fairings  do  run  wild  from  the  Irish  Coast; 
Poor  Cram  a  Cree  untrouz'd,   O  hone !  O  hone! 
Hath  lost  his  cows,  his  sheep,  his  Bagh,  all's  gone. 

124.  13  setting  their  match.  Making  their  appointment.  Cf. 
I  Hen.  IV,  I.  2.  119. 

124.  15    a  candles  end.    Cf.  Marlowe: 

[Hero]  Who  with  all  speed  did  consecrate  a  fire 

Of  flaming  gums  and  comfortable  spice, 

To  light  her  torch,  which  in  such  curious  price 

She  held,  being  object  to  Leander's  sight 

That  naught  but  fires  perfum'd  must  give  it  light. 

124.  26  Dunmow-bacon.  Dunmow  is  a  small  village  of  Essex, 
'formerly  the  seat  of  a  priory  remarkable  for  the  custom  of  present- 
ing a  flitch  of  bacon  to  any  couple  who  could  satisfy  a  jury  of  six 
bachelors  and  six  maidens  that  they  had  spent  the  first  year  of 
married  life  in  perfect  harmony,  and  had  never  at  any  moment 
wished  they  had  tarried.' — Encyc.  Brit.  The  custom  dates  from  the 
reign  of  John.  It  was  revived  in  1855  (cf.  Chambers'  Book  of 
Days,  I.  748). 

124.  28  Westphalian  you  should  say.  Cf.  Marston's  Malcon- 
tent, 4.  I :  'The  buff-captain,  the  sallow  Westphalian  gammon-faced 
zaza  cries  "Stand  out."'  Westphalian  ham  and  bacon  are  still 
celebrated. 

125.  I  Sir  Knaue  out  of  dore.  This  is  very  similar  to  a  line  of 
Edwards'  Damon  and  Pithias  (Stephano  to  Carisophus)  :  'Out,  sir 
knave,  or  I  wyll  send  yee.' 


2i6  Bartholomew  Fair 

125.  16  Puppet-Ionas  and  Cupid.  Cupid  inserted  for  rime; 
only  one  puppet  (cf.  123.  35). 

126.  I  Downe  with  Dagon.  Cf.  i  Samuel  5.  2-5 ;  also  a  broad- 
side written  about  1660  (cited  by  Morley,  Mem.  235)  :  'The  Dagoniz- 
ing  of  Bartholomew  Fayre  caused  by  the  Lord  Majors  Command, 
for  the  battering  downe  the  vanities  of  the  Gentiles,  comprehended 
in  Flag  and  Pole,  appertayning  to  Puppet-play.     .     .     .' 

126.  17    Shimei.    Cf.  2  Samuel  16.  5-13. 

126.  18  Master  of  the  Reuell's  haud.  After  1606  all  plays 
before  production  had  to  undergo  examination  of  the  Master  of 
Revels  (cf.  Fleay,  Hist.  Eng.  Stage,  166). 

126.  21    thou  dost  plead  for  Baal.    Cf.  Judges  6.  31. 

126.  23  I  haue  gaped  as  the  oyster  for  the  tide.  Gifford 
remarks:  'A  satire  upon  the  low,  familiar,  and  profane  jargon  of 
the  Puritans  in  their  public  prayers  and  preaching.  A  specimen  of 
it  is  given  by  Eachard  in  his  Contempt  of  the  Clergy.  "Our  souls 
are  constantly  gaping  after  thee,  O  Lord,  yea,  verily,  our  souls  do 
gape  even  as  an  oyster  gapeth."  ' 

126.  26    Good  Banbury-vapours.    See  note  on  14.  24. 

127.  17  assist  me  zeale,  fill  me,  etc.  Busy's  invocation  of  the 
muse. 

127.  28    lawfull  Calling.    Cf.  Ephesians  4.  1-4. 

128.  3-10  Coleridge  notes :  'An  imitation  of  the  quarrel  between 
Bacchus  and  the  Frogs  in  Aristophanes'  (cf.  Fro gj,  258-264) .  Selden 
commented  on  this  same  passage  in  his  Table  Talk,  164  (ed.  Oxford, 
1892)  ;  he  regarded  it  as  satirical  of  the  heated  controversies  of  the 
divines,  where  arguments  of  similar  weight  were  bandied  between 
them. 

128.  21-25  The  Puritan  feather-makers  of  Blackfriars  were  the 
subject  of  much  satire.     Cf.  Randolph's  Muse's  Looking  Glass,  1.  i  • 

Mrs.  Flowerdew.     Indeed  it  something  pricks  my  conscience 

I  come  to  sell  'em  pins  and  looking-glasses. 

Bird.     I  have  their  custom  too  for  all  their  feathers: 

'Tis  fit  that  we,  which  are  sincere  professors, 

Should  gain  by  infidels. 

Marston's  Malcontent,  Induction:  This  play  hath  beaten  all  our 
gallants  out  of  the  feathers :  Blackfriars  hath  almost  spoiled  Black- 
friars for  feathers.' 

128.  22  perrukes.  Not  to  be  confused  with  the  long  periwigs, 
very  fashionable  beginning  with  the  reign  of  Charles  IL  The 
perukes  of  1614  were  false  hair  worn  by  men  and  women,  as  occa- 
sionally to-day;  the  term  was  also  applied  to  a  single  lock  or  a 
set  of  ringlets.  Actors  wore  them;  cf.  T.  G.  of  Ver.  4.  4.  196, 
Com.   of  Errors,  2.  2.   y6,  Hamlet,  3.   2.    10.     Stubbes    (Anat.   of 


Notes  217 

Abuses  J  68)  tells  of  poverty-stricken  women  selling  their  hair,  also 
of  pretty  children  lured  into  secret  places  and  robbed  of  their  locks. 

128.  23  puffes.  'A  strip  of  some  fabric  gathered  and  sewed 
down  on  both  edges,  but  left  full  in  the  middle.' — CD.  Cf.  Coryate's 
Crudities,  i.  41  (ed.  161 1,  reprinted  London,  1776)  :  The  Switzers 
weare  no  Coates,  but  doublets  and  hose  of  panes,  intermingled  with 
Red  and  Yellow,  and  some  with  Blew,  trimmed  with  long  Puffes 
of  Yellow  and  Blewe  Sarcenet  rising  vp  betwixt  the  Panes.' 

their  fannes.  Made  of  a  few  large  feathers  or  plumes,  and  used 
merely  for  ornament.  Cf.  Gosson's  Pleasant  Quippes  for  Upstart 
Gentle  Newfangled  Gentlewomen  (1596)  : 

Were  fannes,  and  flappes  of  feathers  fond, 

to  flit  away  the  fiisking  flies, 
As  taile  of  mare  that  hangs  on  ground, 

when  heat  of  summer  doth  arrise. 

The  wit  of  women  we  might  praise. 

For  finding  out  so  great  an  ease. 
But  seeing  they  are  still  in  hand, 

in  house,  in  field,  in  church,  in  street. 
In   summer,   winter,   water,   land, 

in  colde,  in  heate,  in  drie,  in  weet, 

I  judge  they  are  for  wives  such  tooles 

As  babies  are  in  playes  for  fooles. 

128.  32  Dagonet.  Evidently  a  perversion  of  Dagon  of  the  pre- 
ceding line.  Concerning  the  ^  legendary  person  of  this  name,  cf. 
Nares :  'Sir  Dagonet  was  said  to  be  the  attendant  fool  of  king 
Arthur.  .  .  .  "And  upon  a  day  sir  Dagonet,  king  Arthur's  foole, 
came  into  Cornewaile,  with  two  squiers  with  him."  Hist,  of  K. 
Arthur,  4to,  1634,  2d  p.,  N2.'     See  Tennyson's  The  Last  Tournament. 

128.  35  and  the  Female  of  the  Male.  This  would  seem  to  indi- 
cate that  there  were  women-actors  at  this  time,  and  Fleay  in  his 
notes  on  Bartholomew  Fair  has  queried,  'Who  were  they?'  How- 
ever, the  fact  that  in  the  many  attacks  made  by  the  Puritans  on  the 
stage,  in  which  they  constantly  denounced  the  male  actors  for  putting 
on  the  dress  of  women,  they  did  not  allude  to  the  reverse,  is  good 
proof  that  such  was  not  a  custom.  Deuteronomy  22.  5  suggests  an 
explanation  of  Busy's  charge :  'The  women  shall  not  weare  that 
which  pertaineth  unto  a  man,  neither  shall  a  man  put  on  a  woman's 
garment :  for  all  that  do  so  are  abomination  unto  the  Lord  thy  God.' 
Only  one  half  of  the  verse  .applied  to  the  general  practice  of  the 
stage.  It  was  thoroughly  in  keeping,  however,  with  Busy's  zeal  and 
inspired  ignorance  to  use  the  whole  verse  and  make  the  charge  a 
double  one. 

On  February  28,  1615,  John  Selden  wrote  to  Jonson  about  this 
same  passage  in  Deuteronomy,  undoubtedly  with  reference  to  the 
present   allusion.     The    letter    covers    four    large    folio   pages    and 


2i8  Bartholomew  Fair 

exhibits  an  erudition  that  is  almost  appalling  (cf.  Works,  London, 
1726,  2.  1690-1696)  ;  it  begins :  Thus  ambitious  am  I  of  your  love, 
but  of  your  judgment  too.  I  hjive  most  willingly  collected  what  you 
wished,  my  notes  touching  the  literal  sense  and  historical  of  the 
holy  text  usually  brought  against  the  counterfeiting  of  sexes  by 
apparell.'  In  these  notes  Selden  shows  that  the  verse  was  not 
intended  to  apply  to  actors  or  plays,  but  to  forbid  certain  magical 
or  idolatrous  rites,  such  as  practiced  in  the  worship  of  Dagon, 
Astarte,  etc.,  when  often  the  males  appeared  in  female  dress,  and 
females  in  male.     See  also  Selden's  Table  Talk,  134,  note. 

Prynne  in  Histrio-Mastix  devotes  thirty-nine  pages  to  the  sin  of 
the  'womanish  and  effeminate  apparel'  of  the  stage  (see  small 
quarto  ed.  1633,  p.  178  ff.)  ;  also  citation  in  Stubbes  (p.  303)  from 
R.  Cleaver's  Exposition  of  the  Ten  Commandments. 

129.  13  I  am  confuted.  'It  appears  from  D'Urfey  that  this 
defeat  of  the  Rabbi  was  a  source  of  infinite  delight  to  the  audience. 
The  triumph  of  Dionysius,  however,  was  of  a  transient  nature ;  and 
he  was  confuted,  in  his  turn,  with  more  effectual  weapons  than  those 
of  "demonstrations".  This  is  beautifully  touched  by  Lord  Buck- 
hurst,  in  the  epilogue  to  Tartuffe : 

Many  have  been  the  vain  attempts  of  wit 

Against  the  still  prevailing  hypocrite: 

Once,  and  hut  once,  a  poet  got  the  day, 

And  vanquished  Busy  in  a  puppet  play! 

But  Busy  rallying,  filled  with  holy  rage, 

Possessed  the  pulpit,  and  pulled  down  the  stage.'  — G. 

129.  19  carryed  it  away.  'Carried  the  day.' — N.E.D.  Cf.  Ham- 
let, 2.  2.  377 : 

Gut/.      O,  there  has  been  such  throwing  about  of  brains. 
Ham.     Do  the  boys  carry  it  away? 

129.  22  I  Adam  Ouerdoo!  All  editions  subsequent  to  the  first 
folio  insert  'am'  after  /.  But  a  comma  following  /,  makes  the 
emendation  quite  unnecessary. 

130.  S.  D.  To  the  Cutpurse,  and  Mistresse  Litwit.  The  stage 
directions  placed  in  the  margin  of  the  1631  folio  are  carelessly  writ- 
ten, and  evidently  not  by  Jonson.  /  will  take  charge  of  you,  and 
your  friend  too,  the  punctuation  notwithstanding,  can  only  have  been 
addressed  to  the  supposed  Troubleall  and  Dame  Purecraft.  The 
remaining  clause  beginning  you  also,  young  man,  is  spoken  to  the 
cutpurse ;  Mrs.  Littlewit  is  not  addressed,  being  reserved  for  a  later 
'discovery'. 

130.  10    with  our  birds.    Cf.  97.  18. 

130.  19  stepp'd  aside.  Wandered  and  become  lost;  not  the 
common  figurative  significance  of  departing  from  the  path  of  right. 


Notes  219 

130.  22  Et  digito  compesce  labellum.  Equivalent  to  'Be  silent.' 
From  Juvenal,  Sat.  i.  160:  'Cum  veniet  contra,  digito  compesce 
labellum.' 

130.  23  sadly  worry.  Sorry  in  earnest.  Cf.  Chaucer's  Ship- 
mans  Tale  J  76;   Much  Ado,  2.  3.  228. 

131.  9  looke  vpon  mee,  O  London.  Is  not  the  overdoing,  over- 
done? 

131.  II     Mirror  of  Magistrates.     See  note  on  9,  31. 

131.  27  Redde  te  Harpocratem.  Equivalent  to  'Commit  your- 
self to  secrecy.'  This  figure  was  common  among  the  Latin  poets. 
Cf .  Catullus,  Carmen,  74.  4 :  'Patruum  reddidit  Harpocratem' ;  also 
102.  4,  Harpocrates  (Horus)  was  the  Egyptian  god  of  the  sun,  the 
son  of  Osiris.  He  was  said  to  have  been  born  with  his  finger  on 
his  mouth,  indicative  of  secrecy  and  mystery  (Smith's  Class.  Diet.). 
Cf.  130.  22  and  note. 

131.  28  stand  by  my  Masters,  be  vncouer*d.  As  though  he 
were  leading  some  stately  procession,  and  called  upon  the  people  to 
remove  their  hats  at  the  approach  of  the  dignitary.  Perhaps  he  had 
this  phrase  from  Justice  Overdo's  court. 

132.  24  I  should  think  it  were  better,  recouering  the  goods, 
and  to  saue  your  estimation  in  him.  A  poor  construction  for  the 
author  of  The  English  Grammar. 

132.  25  I  thank  you.  Sir,  for  the  gift  of  your  Ward.  In  this 
point  of  the  denouement  Jonson  suddenly  breaks  away  from  the 
extreme  realism  which  so  strongly  characterizes  the  play.  In  no 
law  court  would  the  signature  of  the  guardian,  Justice  Overdo, 
gained  in  the  way  it  was,  be  considered  binding.  The  successful 
trick  may  well  be  compared  with  the  forfeiture  of  the  bond  in  The 
Merchant  of  Venice. 

132.  32  neuer  feare  me.  Never  be  apprehensive  for  me.  Cf. 
L.  timere  alicui. 

133.  2  like  a  stake  in  Finsbury.  Finsbury  Fields,  the  open  tract 
north  of  Moorfields,  much  more  extended  than  at  present.  They 
were  long  kept  open  and  entire  for  the  practice  of  archery,  and 
later  became  the  grounds  for  the  muster  and  exercise  of  the  military 
company.  While  yet  open,  they  were  marked  out  for  the  use  of 
archers  with  wooden  posts  for  target  or  standing  practice,  and  with 
stone  pillars  for  long  practice  or  roving. — Abridged  from  Wh.  Cun. 
Cf.  D'Avenant's  The  Long  Vacation  in  London: 

Do  each  with  solemn  oath  agree, 
To  meet  in  fields  of  Finsbury: 
With  loins  in  canvas  bow  case  tide; 
Where  arrows  stick,  with  meikle  pride. 


2  20  Bartholomew  Fair 

133.  3  get  your  wife  out  o*the  ayre.  Remove  your  wife  from 
public  exposure;  (there  possibly  may  be  a  suggestion  of  the  literal 
as  well:  i.  e.  get  her  out  of  this  air — the  foul  air  of  the  booth). 
The  same  phrase  is  to  be  found  in  Hamlet,  2.  2.  209 ;  also  of.  1.  185 
of  the  same  scene,  where  Hamlet  advises  Polonius  in  regard  to  his 
daughter :  'Let  her  not  walk  i'  the  sun'  (Let  her  not  be  exposed  to, 
or  mingle  with,  the  world). 

133.  18  I  inuite  you  home,  with  mee  to  my  house,  to  supper. 
The  ending  with  a  general  invitation  to  dinner  or  supper,  is  com- 
mon ;  perhaps  it  was  suggested  by  the  Roman  comedy ;  cf.  Plautus' 
Rudens,  Curculio;  also  Alchem.,  Devil  is  an  Ass;  Middleton's  A 
Trick  to  catch  the  Old  One,  A  Mad  World,  My  Masters,  A  Chaste 
Maid  in  Cheapside. 

133.  20  Ad  correctionem,  etc.  Cf.  Horace,  Epist.  1.  i.  100: 
'Diruit,  aedificat,  mutat  quadrata  rotundis.'  Also  Sallust,  Catiline, 
20.  12:    'Nova  diruunt,  alia  aedificant,' 

The  Epilogue.  On  the  day  after  its  first  performance,  or  Novem- 
ber I,  1614,  Bartholomew  Fair  was  presented  at  Court  before  the 
King.  It  would  be  interesting  to  know  if  it  pleased  James.  It  is 
evident  from  the  Prologue  that  Jonson  counted  on  touching  a  S3rm- 
pathetic  chord  at  least  in  the  satire  of  the  Puritans.  But  how  was 
the  ridicule  of  popular  reformers,  embodied  in  Overdo's  preachment 
on  tobacco,  among  his  other  extravagancies,  received  by  the  author 
(was  it  still  a  secret?)  of  the  Counterblast  to  Tobacco  1  Was  there 
no  offense  taken  at  the  humiliation  of  the  city  magistrate?  Was  it 
recognized  as  a  jest  at  the  expense  qf  the  Lord  Mayor?  As  one 
considers  these^  very  natural  questions,  a  passage  in  the  Conversa- 
tions appeals  strongly  to  the  imagination ;  Drummond  says :  'To  me 
he  read  the  preface  of  his  Arte  of  Poesie,  upon  Horace  ['s]  Arte  of 
Poesie,  wher  he  heth  ane  Apologie  of  a  play  of  his,  St.  Bartholomee's 
Faire.'  Unfortunately  the  Apology  was  destroyed  by  fire,  and  no 
other  reference  to  it  remains. 

Bartholomew  Fair  was  revived  after  the  Restoration  and  became 
extremely  popular.  The  celebrated  actors,  Nokes  and  Wintersel,  in 
different  presentations,  took  the  part  of  Cokes.  Pepys  saw  it 
several  times,  and  was  present  on  the  first  occasion  of  its  new 
production,  June  8,  1661,  when  it  was  played  without  the  puppet- 
show.  On  September  7  of  the  same  year,  in  the  presence  of  the 
King,  the  entire  play  was  given.  Pepys,  who  was  among  the  audi- 
ence, notes :  'And  here  was  "Bartholomew  Fayre",  with  the  puppet- 
show  acted  to-day,  which  had  not  been  these  forty  years  (it  being 
so  satyricall  against  Puritanism,  they  durst  not  till  now,  which  is 
strange  they  should  already  dare  to  do  it,  and  the  King  do  counten- 


Notes  221 

ance  it),  but  I  do  never  a  whit  like  it  the  better  for  the  puppets,  but 
rather  the  worse'.  Somewhat  different  is  his  observation  as  he  saw 
it  three  years  later  (August  2,  1664)  :  *  .  ,  .  as  it  is  acted,  the 
best  comedy  in  the  world,  I  believe'.  His  final  judgment,  however, 
seems  to  be  that  already  cited  in  the  Introduction ;  it  is  to  be  found 
in  the  entry  for  September  4,  1668,  when  he  saw  it  played  still  again 
— this  time  in  order  to  humor  Mrs.  Pepys :  *It  is  an  excellent  play ; 
the  more  I  see  it,  the  more  I  love  the  wit  of  it;  only  the  business 
of  abusing  the  Puritans  begins  to  grow  stale,  and  of  no  use,  they 
being  the  people  that,  at  last,  will  be  found  the  wisest'. 


222 


Bartholomew  Fair 


GLOSSARY 

This  glossary  aims  to  include  all  words  that  are  archaic,  obsolete, 
colloquial,  cant,  etc.  Words,  however,  that  Jonson  used  in  a  peculiar 
sense  merely  for  the  nonce,  as  well  as  many  others,  unusual  to  the 
general  reader,  yet  to  be  found  in  standard  dictionaries  as  in  good  use, 
are  dealt  with  in  the  Notes.  Etymology  is  adduced  only  when  it  throws 
light  on  a  peculiar  form,  or  illustrates  Jonson's  classical  tendencies.  At 
least  one  reference  is  uniformly  cited,  indicating  the  page  and  line  where 
the  word  occurs  in  the  text. 


A,  prep.     In   some   one's   name. 
76.  17. 
Aduance,  v. 


To  extol. 
Aduis'd,  pp.    Reflected. 


79.  29. 
81.  9. 

Againe    (against),  prep.     In  an- 
ticipation of.     12. 19.     Conj.  Against 
the  time  that,  before  that.    60.  28. 
Agone,  adv.    Ago.    32.  16. 
Allow,    V.     [L.    adlaudare.]     To 
commend,  approve.     134.  2. 
AUurant,   a.     Alluring,  enticing. 

9.  14- 
Amaze,  v.    To  perplex,  bewilder. 

88.31. 

Amended,  pp.  Healed,  cured. 
55.  22. 

Ames-ace,  n.  Ambs-ace,  both 
aces,  the  lowest  possible  throw  at 
dice.     II.  II. 

Anatomy,  n.  A  body  or  subject 
for  dissection.    75.  3. 

And,  conj.    If.    5.  24;  6.  14. 

Angerly,  adv.    Angrily.    23.  8. 

Argument,  n.  A  subject-matter 
for  discussion.     59.  21. 

Artillery,  n.  Implements  of  war ; 
in  a  broad  sense  including  swords, 
pikes,  etc.     112.  29. 


At,  prep.    To.    72.  10. 

Aunt,  n.  An  old  woman,  gossip. 
36.  34;   37-  7. 

Avoyd,  V.    To  go  away.    48.  20. 

Baboun,  n.    A  baboon.    46.  19. 

Baby,  n.  A  doll,  'Prologue*  (cf. 
note). 

Bason,  w.    A  basin.     132.  11. 

Beadle,  «.  The  public  whipper. 
loi.  12. 

Bickering,  n.    A  skirmish.     126. 

25. 

Bile,  n.  [ME.  bile,  from  OE. 
byl]     A  boil.    81.  15. 

Bird,  n.  A  familiar  character 
haunting  a  certain  place.  5.  14 ;  34. 
8  (cf.  note  on  5.  14). 

Blacke  pot,  «.  A  beer-mug. 
32.  2. 

Blood,  n.  A  'buck',  a  'fast'  or 
foppish  man.      56.  25. 

Booke-holder,  n.  A  prompter. 
6.  23. 

Braue,  a.  Finely-dressed,  grand. 
47.  27;  48.  I. 

Bridale,  n.  A  wedding  feast. 
18.  31. 


Glossary 


223 


Bride-man,  n.  One  of  the  young 
men  who  with  the  bridesmaids  as- 
sisted in  the  ceremonies  of  a  wed- 
ding.   64.  15. 

Bring,  V.    To  escort.    81.  26. 

Broach,  v.    To  pierce,  stab.    28. 

25. 

Broke,  v.    To  trade.     19.  11. 

Broker,  n.  A  pander,  pimp,  in- 
termediary.   45.  4. 

Bumm,  n.    The  buttocks.     102.  5. 

Carroch,  n.  A  stately  coach. 
60.  23. 

Carwhitchet.  n.  A  pun,  quibble. 
106.  5- 

Cawdle,  n.    Caudle.     18.  8. 

Censure,  n.  Judgment,  criticism. 
8.  4.     V.  To  judge,  criticise.    8.  10. 

Chapman,  n.  A  customer,  mer- 
chant.   42.  9. 

Cheap,  Cheapen,  v.  To  bargain 
for.    60.  25 ;  63.  2. 

Circling  boy,  n.  A  swaggering 
bully.    89.  21  (cf.  note). 

Commit,  v.  To  match,  bring  to- 
gether in  a  contest.     127.  22. 

Commodity,  «.  A  quantity  of 
wares.     10.  21  (cf.  note). 

Conceit,  n.  An  idea,  device.  30. 
2.     Conceipt,  An  opinion.     loi.  23. 

Conceited,  pa.  Whimsical.  5. 
10. 

Condition,  conj.  On  condition 
that.     121.  29. 

Conscience,  n.     Sense,     no.  30. 

Conuince,  v.  [L.  convincere,  to 
overcome.]  To  overcome,  over- 
power.    12,  2. 

Corne,  n.  A  hard  grain  or  par- 
ticle.    12.  17. 

Costard-monger,  n.  A  vender 
of  fruit;  commonly  applied  to  a 
seller  of  apples,  but  here  of  pears. 
'Persons  of  the  Play.' 


Couer,  V.  To  copulate  with  (ap- 
plied to  stallions).    96.  17. 

Countenance,  «.  Appearance, 
pretense.     126.  13. 

Counterpaine,  n.  The  counter- 
part of  an  indenture  (Law).    7-  ^O- 

Coyle  (coil),  n.  Bustle,  fuss, 
turmoil.    20.  27;   26.  26. 

Cracke,  v.    To  boast.    71,  z^- 

Crowne  scabbe,  n.  A  disease  of 
horses.    47.  i  (cf.  note). 

Cry,  V.  To  beg,  beseech  for. 
102.  13. 

Cunning  man,  «.  A  fortune- 
teller.    14.  6  (cf.  note). 

Dead,  a.  Having  lost  its  virtue. 
33-  10. 

Death,  interj.  More  often, 
'Sdeath';  a  corruption  of  the  oath, 
'God's  death.'    51.  16. 

Delicates,  w.  pi  Luxuries,  de- 
lights.    13.  8. 

Detect,  V.  To  expose  (a  per- 
son) by  making  known  his  guilt. 
72.  18. 

Dibble,        n.  *  PMoustache' 

{N.E.D.).    38.28. 

Dier,  n.    Dyer.     115.  2. 

Discipline,  n.  The  system  by 
which  the  practice  of  a  church  is 
regulated,  especially  applied  to  that 
of  the  Puritans.    28.  9. 

Discretion,  n.  Judgment.  38. 
23 ;    102.  23. 

Disease,  n.  Uneasiness,  discom- 
fort.   29.  20. 

Disparagement,  n.  Marriage  to 
one  of  inferior  rank.  73.  22  (cf. 
note). 

Dor,  V.  To  make  a  fool  of.  83. 
II. 

Drollery,  n.  A  comic  play,  pup- 
pet-show.   9-  19- 


224 


Bartholomew  Fair 


Earn,  v.  To  grieve.  104.  26  (cf. 
note). 

Eder-oder  (either  other),  pro. 
One  or  the  other.     117.  11. 

Enuy,  V.    To  begrudge.     13.  8. 

Equall,  a.  [L.  (squus.]  Fair, 
just.    88.  I. 

Equipage,  n.    Dress,  state.    9.  9. 

Errant,  a.     Arrant.     19.  11. 

Exceeding,  pa.  'Overstepping 
the  limits  of  propriety,  or  custom' 
(N.E.D.).    93.31- 

Except  at,  v.  To  take  exception 
to.    43.  12. 

Fall,  V.  To  settle  down :  used  of 
anything  heated  or  swollen.  43.  28. 
Fall  in,  Become  reconciled.     16.  27. 

Famelick,  a.  [L.  famelicus, 
hungry.]  Pertaining  to  hunger. 
56.  II. 

Faucet,  n.  A  contemptuous  ap- 
pellation for  a  tapster.    34.  20. 

Fidge,  V.    To  fidget.    25.  3. 

Flasket,  n.  A  shallow  basket. 
77.  18. 

Flaw,  V.    To  make  drunk.     123. 

34. 

Flea,  V.    To  rid  of  fleas.    35.  6. 

Flead,  pp.  [OE.  flean,  to  flay.] 
Flayed.    61.  30. 

Flower-de-lice,  n.  The  fleur-de- 
lis.    48.  35- 

For,  prep.  With  respect  to.  14. 
32.  ^  For  and,  conj.  And  moreover. 
67.  II. 

Fore-right,  adv.  Directly  for- 
ward.   54.  23. 

Fore-top,  n.  'The  lock  of  hair 
which  grows  upon  the  fore  part  of 
the  crown,  or  is  arranged  ornamen- 
tally on  the  forehead'  (N.E.D.). 
98.  24. 

Forme,  v.  To  state  formally, 
loi.  21. 


Forsaken,  pp.  Refused,  rejected. 
88.6. 

Fox,  n.  A  sword.  49.  8  (cf. 
note). 

Game,  n.  Amorous  sport.  'Per- 
sons of  the  Play.' 

Gamester,  n.  A  merry,  frolic- 
some person.     'Persons  of  the  Play.' 

Garded  (guarded),  pp.  Edged 
with  lace,  or  protected  by  facing. 
43-  7. 

Gather,  v.  To  address  to  flight: 
used  of  a  hawk.    69.  30;  94.  11. 

Gfeere,  n.    Stuff.    44.  4  (cf.  note). 

Geere,  v.    To  jeer.     114.  13. 

Gentles,  n.  pi.  Gentlefolks.   122. 8. 

Get-penny,  n.  Anything  that 
brings  money,  especially  a  new  play. 
106.  13. 

Gib-cat,  n.    A  male  cat.    22.  29. 

Gip,  interj.  'Get  out.'  23.  20  (cf. 
note). 

Glister,  n.  A  clyster;  an  intes- 
tinal injection.    21.  8. 

Gods  so,  interj.  An  oath,  fre- 
quently written  'ods  so',  from  'od- 
zooks',  a  corruption  of  'God's 
(Christ's)  hooks',  referring  to  the 
nails  of  the  Cross.    63.  3. 

Gossip,  n.  [OE.  godsibb:  god, 
God,  and  sib,  related.  From  the 
original  meaning,  sponsor,  came  a 
second  meaning,  a  familiar  acquaint- 
ance, and  from  this,  the  common 
significance  of  to-day.]  Companion, 
fellow.     12.  23;   82.  3. 

Gouernour,  n.  'One  who  has 
charge  of  a  young  man's  education, 
occupations;  a  tutor,  especially  of 
a  prince  or  young  noble'  (N.E.D.). 
72.  27. 

Graines,  n.  pi.  'The  capsules  of 
Amomum   Meleguetta   of   Western 


3HX  iO 


Glossary 


225 


Africa  used  as  a  spice  and  in  medi- 
cine' (N.E.D.).    90.  8. 

Gramercy,  interj.  Many  thanks. 
96.28. 

Ground,  n.    The  pit.    6.  27. 

Hanch,  n.     A  haunch.     125.  12. 

Hand,  w.     Condition.    23.  5. 

*Heart,  interj.  An  oath,  con- 
tracted from  'God's  heart.'    48.  13. 

Hight,  pp.     Called.     114.  29. 

History,  n.  A  story  represented 
dramatically,     iii.  17. 

Honest,  a.    Chaste.     17.  15. 

Horne-thumb,  n.  *A  horn  on 
the  thumb  .  .  .  used  to  receive 
the  edge  of  the  knife  with  which 
purses  were  cut'  (Morley,  Mem.). 
38.  II. 

Hornsh  (horns),  n.  pi  'Cuck- 
olds were  fancifully  said  to  wear 
horns  on  the  brow'  (N.E.D.).  98. 
22. 

Horse-courser,  n.  A  jobbing 
dealer  in  horses.  'Persons  of  the 
Play/ 

Hoy-day,  interj.     Hey-dey.     16. 

34- 

Huff,  n.     Arrogance.     128.  23. 

Humor,  n.  A  characteristic 
mood.    5.  13. 

I,  interj.     Aye.     14.  10;    19.  4- 

lacobus,  n.  The  current  (but 
not  official)  name  of  an  English  gold 
coin,  struck  in  the  reign  of  James  I ; 
valued   at   about   20   s.     (N.E.D.). 

94-  4- 

lewes  trump,  n.  Jews'  harp. 
62.  I. 

Ignorant,  «.  An  ignorant  per- 
son.    108.  17. 

Impertinently,  adv.  Contrary  to 
reason.  87.  7.  To  no  purpose, 
loi.  18. 


Inconuenience,  n.  An  absurdity. 
42.  25. 

Incubeif,  w.  [A  distortion  of  in- 
cubus.] A  term  of  reprobation. 
35-  22. 

Inginer,  n.     A  designer.    S3-  16. 

Inow,  a.     Enough.    27.  7. 

Into,  prep.    Unto,  to.     5.  23. 

loll,  n.  [MnE.  jowl.]  'Seems 
to  have  been  the  established  word 
for  a  fish's  head'  (Cun.).    44.  12. 

lordan,  n.  A  chamber-pot.  95. 
36. 

loy,  V.    To  give  joy  to.    76.  3. 

Itch,  V.  [  Var.  of  eche,  MnE.  eke.] 
Itch  it  out  =  eke  it  out.    35.  30. 

lusticer,  n.  One  who  admin- 
isters justice.    81.  9. 

Kemb'd,  pp.    Combed.     15.  3. 

Knocking,  pa.  Forcible,  deci- 
sive.   59.  12. 

Knot,  n.  A  flower-bed  of  fanci- 
ful design.    34.  24. 

Leave,  v.    To  cease.     17.  16. 

Leere,  a.  Looking  askance,  leer- 
ing.   9.  8. 

Lesse,  conj.    Unless.    68.  18. 

Lien,  pp.    Lain.     122,  19. 

Lift,  n.  A  theft.  90.  i  (cf. 
note). 

Like,  V.  To  be  agreeable  to, 
please.    64.  8. 

Lime-hound,  n.  A  dog  used  in 
hunting  the  wild  boar;    a  limmer. 

15-  17. 

Lincke,  n.    Lint.     17.  18, 

Lye  (lie),  v.  To  dwell.  84.  36. 
To  sleep.     113.  24. 

Mallanders,  n.  A  disease  of 
horses,  affecting  the  skin  of  the  legs. 
47.  I. 

Mart,  n.    Traffic.    40.  i. 

Maruell,  a.    Marvellous.    82.  25. 


226 


Bartholomew  Fair 


Mary,  interj.  The  ME.  form  of 
the  oath,  'marry.'    23.  20. 

Maryhinchco,  n.  A  disease  of 
horses.    55.  22  (cf.  note). 

Meditant,  a.    Meditating.    9.  12. 

Meet,  a.    Even.    37.  29. 

Melicotton,  w.  A  large  kind  of 
peach.     13.  II. 

Mickle,  a.  [OE.  micel]  Great. 
106.  19. 

Mis-take,  v.  To  take  wrongly, 
steal.    36.  5  (cf.  note). 

Moderate,  v.  To  act  as  mod- 
erator.    18.  I. 

Moneth,  n.  [OE.  mdnati.'\ 
Month.    31-27. 

Monster,  n.  A  thing  to  be  won- 
dered at,  a  prodigy.    52.  12. 

Motion,  M.  A  puppet-show; 
motion-man^  The  exhibitor.    27.  20. 

Mum  chance,  n.  A  game  of 
hazard.    84.  32  (cf.  note). 

Murther,  n.    Murder.    51.  30. 

Musse,  n.  A  scramble,  as ,  for 
nuts  and  pennies  among  boys.    83. 

23. 

Neere,  adv.    Nigher.     iii.  22. 

Neighbour,  n.  An  intimate, 
companion.     103.  36. 

Noise,  n.  A  company  of  musi- 
cians, especially  of  fiddlers.    62.  15. 

Od*s  foote,  interj.  An  oath,  cor- 
rupted from  'God's  (Christ's)  foot' 
99-  12. 

Of,  prep.    For.    77.9.    On.    81. 9- 

Offer  at,  v.  To  make  an  attempt 
at,  essay.    58.  2. 

On,  prep.    Of.    5-  8.    For.     12. 8. 

Ouerparted,  pp.  Given  too  diffi- 
cult a  part.    61.  11. 

PainefuU,  a.  Painstaking,  labo- 
rious.    14.  25. 

Pannier-man,  n.  *In  the  inns  of 
court,  formerly  a  servant  who  laid 


the  cloths,  set  the .  salt-cellars,  cut 
bread,  waited  on  the  gentlemen  in 
term  time,'  etc.  (CD.).    45.  9. 

Patience,  n.     Sufferance.    17.  31. 

Patrico,  n.  The  hedge-priest  or 
orator  of  a  band  of  gypsies  or  beg- 
gars.   51.  26. 

Perssway,  v.  To  mitigate.  48. 
24. 

Pick-packe,  n.  Something  on 
the  back  or  shoulders  like  a  pack. 
50.     S.D. 

Pinnace,  n.  A  prostitute  or  pro- 
curess.   35.  II. 

Pitch'd,  pp.    Transfixed.    22.  33. 

Pizzle,  n.    The  penis.     118.  5. 

Plouer,  n.  A  loose  woman.  97. 
16. 

Poesie,  n.  A  motto  or  senti- 
mental conceit,  frequently  engraved 
on  a  ring  or  other  trinket.    64.  16. 

Pothecary,  n.  An  apothecary. 
21.  8. 

Proffer,  v.  (Law)  To  offer  to 
proceed  in  an  action.    73.  26. 

Prophesie,  v.  To  preach,  ex- 
hort.   30.  36. 

Pull'd,  pp.  Plucked,  cheated. 
84.  16. 

Punque,  n.    A  prostitute.    6.  9. 

Purchase,  n.  Plunder,  booty. 
40.  17;   46.  30. 

Quaile,  n.    A  prostitute.    97.  17. 

Quality,  n.  The  profession  of  an 
actor.     113.  19. 

Quib,  n.    A  quip,  gibe.     11.  17. 

Quiblin,  n.    A  quibble.     11.  14. 

Quitter  bone,  n.  A  disease  of 
horses.    47.  2  (cf.  note). 

Raze,  V.    To  erase.     109.  22. 

Reduce,  v.  [L.  reducere,  to  lead 
back.]  To  lead  or  bring  back. 
III.  6. 


Glossary 


227 


Respectiue,  o.  Respectable, 
worthy  of  respect.     16.  34. 

Retchlesse,  a.    Reckless.    72.  i. 

Right,  a.     Genuine.     18.  10. 

Roarer,  n.  A  bully,  a  swagger- 
ing tavern-frequenter.  'Persons  of 
the  Play'. 

Roguy,  a.    Knavish.    22.  36. 

Roundell,  «.  One  of  the  round 
holes  in  the  stocks.     loi.  35. 

S'blood,  interj.  An  oath,  cor- 
rupted from  'God's  (Christ's) 
blood'.  48.  I.  S'lud.  42.  23. 
S'lood.    86.6. 

Scabbe,  w.  A  mean,  dirty  fel- 
low.    122.  24. 

Scape,  V.    To  escape.     11.  14. 

Scourse,  v.  To  trade,  swap. 
60.  20. 

Scratches,  n.  A  disease  of  horses. 
47.  I  (cf.  note). 

Scarchant,  a.  'Searching:  a 
jocose  word  formed  after  the  her- 
aldic adjectives  in  ant'  (CD.). 
9.  13. 

Sent,  n.  Scent.  15.  18  (cf. 
note). 

Set  in,  V.  To  make  an  attack. 
65.  10. 

Sincere,  o.  [L.  sincerus,  sound, 
pure.]     Pure,  unmixed.    56.  26. 

Sirrah,  n.  Fellow :  used  in  anger 
or  contempt.    36.   i. 

Skinke,  v.  To  draw,  pour  out. 
36.  I. 

*Slid,  interj.  An  oath,  contracted 
from  'God's  eyelid'.  12.  23.  Gods' 
lid.    59.  24. 

S*light,  interj.  An  oath,  con- 
tracted from    'God's  light'.    47.  21. 

S'lood,  {v.  S'hlood). 

S'lud,  {v.  S'hlood). 

Spic'd,  pp.  Made  fastidious  or 
dainty.     18.  30. 


Splene,  n.    Mood.     19.  9. 

Spoile,  n.     Ruin.     106.  18. 

S'pretious,  interj.  An  oath,  con- 
tracted from  'God's  precious  (body, 
blood,  or  nails)'.     23.  16. 

Stain'd,  pp.    Impaired.     16.  5. 

Stale,  V.  To  urinate:  said  of 
horses  and  cattle.     100.  13. 

State,  n.     An  estate.    18.  9. 

S[t]ringhalt,  n.  'An  irregular, 
convulsive  action  of  the  muscles  of 
the  hind  legs  in  the  horse'  (BilHngs, 
Nat.  Med.  Diet.).    55.  22. 

Superlunaticall,  a.  Extremely 
insane.     131.  17. 

Sute,  n.    A  suit.    49.  31. 

Tabacconist,  n.  One  who  smokes 
tobacco  (not  the  seller).    48.  26. 

Tables,  n.  pi.  A  pocket  tablet, 
memorandum-book.    87.  21. 

Take,  v.  To  give  or  deliver. 
22.  36. 

Tarriar,  n.  A  delayer.    26.  35. 

Taw'd,  pp.    Flogged.    99.  17. 

Taxed,  pp.    Censured.    31.  3. 

Then,  conj.    Than.     14.  36. 

Thorow,  prep.    Through.   62.  13. 

Thrid,  n.     Thread.    32.  4. 

To,  prep.     For.     56,  29.     With. 

7Z-  17- 

Token,  n.  A  farthing.  39.  15 
(cf.  note). 

Tokenworth,  n.  A  farthing's 
worth.     13.  30. 

Touch,  V.    To  rob.    89.  13. 

Toy,  n.    A  fancy,  caprice.    6^.  9- 

Trauell,  n.  An  effort,  labor.  41. 
10. 

Trendle  tayle,  n.  Trundle-tail; 
a  curly-tailed  dog.    45.  11. 

Trillibub,  n.  Tripe;  fig.,  any- 
thing trifling  or  worthless.     17.  7- 

Trow,  V.  To  suppose,  think. 
63.  23. 


228 


Bartholomew  Fair 


Tuft  taffata,  n.  An  expensive 
dresscloth.    94.  27. 

Tyring-house,  n.  The  dressing- 
room.    6.  5. 

Valour,  n.  [ME.  valour,  from 
late  L.  valor  =  yalue.]  Value, 
worth.     102.  27. 

Vapour,  n.  and  f.  (See  note  on 
38.  5). 

Vnder-meale,  n.  A  time  of  the 
day.    84.  3  (cf.  note). 

Vndertake,  v.  To  engage  with. 
127.  8. 

Voluntary,  n.  One  admitted 
without  charge.     112.  7  (cf.  note). 

Vpon,  adv.  At  once,  anon.  5.  2. 
Prep.  Against.     14.  17. 


Waimb  (womb),  n.  [OE.wamb, 
the  belly.]     Belly,  stomach.    92.  19. 

Whether,  pro.    Which.    22.  11. 

Witnesse,  n.    A  sponsor.    18.  35. 

Wrastle,  v.    To  wrestle.    89.  19. 

Wusse,  V.  [Early  MnE.  dial. 
form  of  wis.]  *A  spurious  word, 
arising  from  a  misunderstanding  of 
the  Middle  English  adverb  izxHs, 
often  written  i-wis,  and  in  the  Mid- 
dle English  manuscripts  i  wis,  I  wis, 
whence  it  has  been  taken  as  the 
pronoun  I  with  a  verb  wis,  vaguely 
regarded  as  connected  with  zvit' 
(CD.).    21.8;  67.  21. 

Zeale,  n.    Zealot.     19.  12. 


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Index 


233 


INDEX 


Adams,  141. 
Allot,  Robert,  136. 
And,  139. 
Andronicus,  144. 
Apostle-spoons,  153. 
Apple- John,  152. 
Aqua  coelestis,  151. 
Archdeacon's  court,  147. 
Arches,  138,  147. 
Arsedine,  168. 
Arthur  of  Bradley,  170. 
Aunt,  171. 

Babies  =  dolls,  136. 

Ballads,  167,  192. 

Banbury,  150,  154. 

Bankside,  142. 

Bartholomew,  spelling  of,  135. 

Bartholomew  Fair  (the  play),  char- 
acters, xviii;  date,  142;  dialect, 
184,  202;  editions  of  the  text, 
vii-x;  general  features  of  the 
comedy,  xii-xx;  Leigh  Hunt's 
criticism,  xiii ;  local  allusions,  163 ; 
Pepys'  comrhents,  220;  plot,  xiv- 
xviii ;  puppet-play,  xvi-xviii ;  real- 
ism, xix,  219;  a  study  of  English 
social  histo?:y,  xx;  Swinburne's 
criticism,  xiii. 

Bartholomew  Fair  (the  Smithfield 
Fair),  character  of  its  visitors, 
160 ;  a  cloth  fair,  141 ;  duration 
of,  166;  history,  x-xii;  wrestling 
at,  201. 

Bears  at  the  Hope,  142. 

Bedchambers,  English,  200. 

Bedlam,  150. 

Bermudas,  182. 


Birds,  Bartholomew,  138. 
Bobchin,  189. 
Bradley,  Arthur  of,  170. 
Bridewell,  204. 
Brome,  Richard,  138,  166. 
Bucklersbury,  158. 
Budge  Row,  147. 
Buff,  152. 

Canters,  208. 

Catchpoles,  195. 

Changeling,  168. 

Choke  pears,  200. 

Cicero,  170. 

Circling  boy,  201,  203. 

Cloister,  the  Fair,  156. 

Cloth  fairs,  English,  141. 

Cokeley,  190. 

Cokes,  meaning  of  name,  159. 

Cole,  213. 

Coltsfoot,  169. 

Comfortable  bread,  176. 

Commodity  swindle,  146. 

Cony,  174. 

Coryate,  Thomas,  190,  195. 

Cow  Lane,  150. 

Cranion-legs,  160. 

Cross  and  pile,  157. 

Crown  scab,  179. 

Cucking-stool,  178. 

Cunning  man,  149. 

Cutpurses,  178,  179,  181,  182,  I93- 

Dame  Annis  the  Clear,  187. 
Davy,  little,  138. 
Delia,  Daniel's,  212. 
Dibble,  I73- 
Disparagement,  195. 


234 


Bartholomew  Fair 


Dorring  the  dotterel,  198. 
Drawing  after,  152. 
Dunmow  bacon,  215. 

Eggs  on  the  spit,  156. 

Elder,  150. 

Elizabeth's  Servants,  Lady,  135. 

Epictetus,  206. 

Epidaurian  serpent,  163. 

Fans,  217. 
Feathers,  148,  216. 
Ferret  and  cony,  174. 
Field,  Nathaniel,  210. 
Finsbury,  219. 
Fireworks,  211. 
Fly  at  a  mark,  175. 
Foundring,  173. 
Fox  =  sword,  181. 
French,  hood,  158. 

Gear,  177. 
Gib-cat,  157. 
Gloves,  wedding,  191. 
Goldylocks,  196. 
Goshawk,  176. 
Grasso  scoured,  173. 
Green  gowns,  205. 
Ground,  142, 

Handsell,  171. 

Handy-dandy,  193. 

Harpocrates,  219. 

Harrow,  147. 

Hedge  bird,  178. 

His,  joined  with  a  noun,  154. 

Hobby-horse,  167. 

Hodge,  157. 

Hog  grubber,  214. 

Hone  and  a  honero,  215. 

Hope  Theatre,  142,  146,  209. 

Hora(?^,  206. 

Horse-courser,  137. 

Hum-ha-hum,  153. 

Humors,  138. 


LB.,  13s. 

Induction,  its  personal  note,  137. 

Inns  of  Court,  140. 

Jack,  147,  186. 

Jeronimo,  144. 

Joan,  166.  4 

Jones,  Inigo,  167. 

Jonson,  Ben,  a  possible  allusion  to 
his  duel  with  Spencer,  155;  spell- 
ing of  name,  135. 

Jordan,  173. 

Juggler,  with  ape,  139. 

Juvenal,  219. 

Kind-heart,  139. 

Lay  aboard,  188. 

Lift  =  theft,  202. 

London  watermen,  214. 

Lord  Mayor,  Jonson's  satire  of,  163. 

Lotteries,  144. 

Low  Countries,  allusions  to,  177. 

Lubberland,  187. 

Lucanus,  205. 

Lynceus,  163. 

Magistrates,  Jonson's  satire  of,  163, 

180. 
Making  and  marring,  157. 
Mallanders,  179. 
Mark,  156. 
Marlowe's  Hero  and  Leander,  213, 

215- 

Marrow-bone  man,  151. 

Martyrs  in  Smithfield,  200. 

Mary  gip,  158. 

Maryhinchco,  187. 

Masks,  211. 

May-poles,  154. 

Melancholy,  175. 

Mermaid  inn,  147. 

Mess,  191. 

Middleton,    The    Family   of   Love, 

XXX. 


Index 


235 


Mirror  for  Magistrates,  145. 
Mitre  inn,  148. 
Monsters,  185. 
Moon-calf,  168. 
Morefields,  148. 
Morris-dance,  154. 
Muss,  198. 

Nativity  water,  149. 
Nightcap,  186. 
Northern  clothier,  201. 
Numps,  156. 

Ostler,  Wm.,  210. 

Paggington's  Pound,  192. 

Painful  eaters,  153. 

Pannyer  Alley,  153. 

Parcel-poet,  167. 

Patrico,  183. 

Pauls.     See  St.  Paul's. 

Peck,  mouth  of  a,  183. 

Peircing,  spelling  of,  163. 

Pepys  on  Bartholomew  Fair,  220. 

Peremptory,  198. 

Persius,  206. 

Perukes,  216. 

Pie  Corner,  161. 

Pie-powder  court,  165. 

Pimlico,  148. 

Plague,  177. 

Pluck  a  hair  of  the  same  wolf,  152. 

Poesy,  191. 

Possibility,  152. 

Pox,  179. 

Proclamation  by  City  of  London, 

166. 
Proctor,  137,  151. 
Profanity,  145. 
Prophecy,  162. 
Puffs,  217. 
Puppet-plays,    xvi-xviii,    207,    208, 

212. 


Puritan,  the  play  of  the,  xxx. 

Puritans,  their  loathing  of  Juda- 
ism, 162. 

Puritans,  Jonson's  satire  of  their 
cant,  xxiii,  xxvii;  dishonesty, 
xxvi,  xxix;  dress,  xxiii,  xxvii; 
hypocrisy,  xxvii ;  narrowness  and 
intolerance,  xxiv,  xxviii;  scrupu- 
losity, xxiv ;  Jonson's  moderation 
in  his  attack,  xxxi;  his  real  feel- 
ing towards,  xxxi-xxxiii. 

Quarreling  lesson,  182. 
Quitter-bone,  179. 
Quit  you,  etc.,  197. 
Quorum,  163. 

Rabbi,  significance  of  title,  162. 

Rag-rakers,  151. 

Randolph,     The     Muse's     Looking 

Glass,  xxx. 
Ranger,  137. 

Rat-catcher's  charm,  194. 
Reversion,  200. 
Romford,  204. 

St.  Paul's,  147. 

Sathan,  196. 

Satire  of  the  public,  Jonson's,  143; 

satire   of  the  Lord  Mayor,  etc., 

see    Lord     Mayor,    Magistrates, 

Puritans,  Shakespeare. 
Scratches,  179. 
Seminaries,  164. 
Sent  =  scent,  152. 
Servant-monster,  145. 
Shakespeare,     Jonson's     satire     on 

Much   Ado,    141;     Tempest   and 

Winter's  Tale,  145. 
Shrove  Tuesday,  207. 
Signs,  street,  136,  158. 
Smithfield,  dirt  of,  146;   pond,  178; 

martyrs,    200;     origin    of    name, 

186;   see  Bartholomew  Fair. 


236 


Bartholomew  Fair 


Spanish  lady,  147. 

Spectators  at  the  theatres,  143. 

Spinner  =  spider,  153. 

Splay-foot,  152. 

Starch,     the     Puritans'     prejudice 

against,  155. 
Stone-Puritan,  188. 
Stourbridge  Fair,  141. 
Streights,  182. 
Sweating  sickness,  177. 
Sweet  singers,  151. 
Sword  and  buckler,  138. 

Take  soil,  151. 
Tarlton,  Richard,  140. 
Tartuffe,  Moliere's,  162. 
Taylor,  the  Water-Poet,  209. 
Theatres,  price  of  admission,  143; 

private,  211. 
Three  Cranes  inn,  147. 
Tobacco,  169,  180,  181,  182. 
Token,  174. 
Tottenham,  152. 
Trigstairs,  211. 
Trillibub,  152. 


Troubleall,  197. 
Trunk-hose,  206. 
Turnbull,  137. 
Tusk,  173. 

Under-meal,  199. 
Unexcepted  at,  144. 
Upon,  used  adverbially,  137. 
Ursula,  168. 

Vapors,  172. 
Velvet-custard,  156. 
Virgil,  189. 
Vocation,  151. 
Voluntary,  208. 

Ware,  204. 
Watch,  the  city,  141. 
Wellborn,  Grace,  201. 
Wench,  174. 

Whetstone,  George,  159. 
Whit's  brogue,  184. 
Whimsy,  175. 
Windgall,  179. 


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